That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime
by GhostWriterDT
Summary: Jaune Arc is a typical teenager, perfectly contented with his average lifestyle on Earth, despite failing to get a girlfriend even once throughout his life. In the midst of a casual outing, he falls victim to a random assailant on the street and is stabbed. When he regains consciousness, he discovered he was reincarnated as a goop of slime in an unfamiliar world.
1. - Act I: First Time

**The Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

**In memory of a musical genius, rapper and free-stylist. You lived a short life but your music will live on forever in our hearts. RIP Juice Wrld. (02/12/1998 – 08/12/2019)**

* * *

**Okay, this story only borrows the basic plot, mechanics and prologue of the original work. Don't worry, this story will be vastly different from what you expect. And it will progress differently from the original. Do not let the prologue deter you from continuing with the story. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Summary: 17-year-old Jaune Arc is a typical teenager, who is perfectly content with his average lifestyle on Earth, other than failing to get a girlfriend even once throughout his life. In the midst of a casual outing, he falls victim to a random assailant on the street and is stabbed. However, while succumbing to his injuries, a peculiar voice echoes in his mind, and recites a bunch of commands which the dying teen cannot make sense of.**

**When Jaune regains consciousness, he discovers that he has reincarnated as a goop of slime in an unfamiliar realm. In doing so, he acquires newfound skills – notably, the power to devour anything and mimic its appearance and abilities. Now, liberated from the mundanities of his past life, Jaune embarks on a fresh journey with a distinct goal in mind. As he grows accustomed to his new physique, his gooey antics ripple throughout the world, gradually altering his fate.**

* * *

**Prologue - First Time**

* * *

Go…it's…h-hot

**Confirmed. Heat resistance… successfully acquired.**

_Did I… did I just get… stabbed?_

Feeling the hard texture of the ground against his face, he realized that he had fallen face down on the ground. He couldn't move, even when he tried, and he already couldn't feel his fingers. What he did feel was a certain heat, and it overwhelmed his entire body.

**Confirmed. Piercing weapons resistance… successfully acquired. Following up with Melee Attack resistance… successfully acquired.**

He coughed and vomited the blood he felt rising in his throat – the source of his waning life. So much came out that it frothed at the edges of his mouth. With his hazy vision, he could see the ground in front of him stained red.

**Confirmed. Constructing a blood-free body… successful.**

Feeling as though all of his blood in his body had spilled out of him, he reached a shaky hand to try to find the source of the heat that was burning through his body. As his fingers reached the pummel of the kitchen knife in his stomach, he understood.

No wonder it felt so hot. His brain must have been mistaking pain for heat. The knife was stuck so deep he wouldn't have been surprised if it had torn through several organs.

**Confirmed. Pain nullification… successfully acquired **

_Am I delusional from the blood loss…? Why do I keep hearing voices?_

His consciousness began to fade, the heat that had been ravaging him disappeared and the unpleasant feeling of the blade touching his organs vanished as his consciousness began to fade. Cold began to creep in.

**Confirmed. Cold resistance…successfully acquired. Combined with the previously acquired Heat resistance, the skill has progressed to Temperature resistance.**

He seized his fading consciousness, pulling it desperately back, trying to buy a bit more time for any rescue.

He thought about his laptop atop his table in the room he shared with a fellow college-mate. He thought about the files hidden in it… if only he could have them erased. The shame if anyone should see those alone would haunt him from beyond the grave.

**Confirmed. Electricity-based deletion of data… Cannot execute. More information required. Substituting with Electricity resistance… Successfully acquired.**

In the next instant, he – Jaune Arc – lost his life.

* * *

**The Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

It was just your typical average kind of life. I was about to go to college, having already bought the apartment. Sadly, now, I would die… with regrets, and they are quite many for a life as relatively short as mine. I would forever regret not listening to my parents and settle for a college in my hometown instead of one two countries over. I had thought that to break out of my shell I would need to be far away from my family as physically and monetarily possible. Hindsight, as they say, really is 20/20.

If I just had another chance at life… I would make sure to live without regrets.

I would have a girlfriend. And finally get laid.

_Imagine that. Floating off to meet my maker in a completely unused condition… My manhood was probably crying its single eye out right then. Sorry I couldn't make you a real grown-up. If there's such a thing as reincarnation, I'm gonna go on the attack next time – I promise. I'll hit up everyone I see, stalking my prey before I go in for the kill… Okay, not like that, but… _

**Confirmed. Unique skill "Predator" …successfully acquired. **

It really sucked that I didn't land a girlfriend, not even a kiss. A kiss on my cheek from family and relatives didn't count. If there was a prize for the most celibate teen, I would be a top contender. Not even 18 yet and I was already aspiring to be a Sage. A few more years of this trend and I would have been a great Sage of celibacy. I didn't even need to be 50. Not the road I wanted to take in life, but there you go.

**Confirmed. Extra skill "Sage" …successfully acquired. Evolving extra skill "Sage" into unique skill, "Great Sage" …successful.**

…_Hey, someone mind telling me who's talking? What do you mean, "unique skill 'Great Sage'"? Someone tryin' to start something with me? There's nothing "unique" about that! Nothing at all! If you think that's funny, it's not! That's just mean, man…_

Before I could continue down that pride-crushing train of thought, a deep drowsiness came over me and I fell asleep.

_Weird how death isn't as scary as it is portrayed._

That was the last thought I had on the mortal plane.

* * *

**Skills:**

\- Piercing weapon resistance

\- Melee attack resistance

\- Pain nullification

\- Temperature resistance

\- Electricity resistance

**Abilities:**

\- Blood-free body

(More will be added as the story continues)

* * *

**Review with your thoughts.**


	2. - A Lucid Dream

**The Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**.

* * *

**I hope you like my changes and the entrance of an under-rated character who really shouldn't have existed as a means of power-up for a one-dimensional villain (who I really love btw) in RWBY. I just couldn't resist. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter One – A Lucid Dream**

* * *

He was encompassed by pitch darkness. No lights, no stars, no buildings. Only black.

He tried to suppress the sense of panic that immediately welled up inside him.

Was he in a coma? Unable to initiate voluntary actions and respond to external stimuli. A lucid dream? Able to interact with the dream character, narrative and environment. If it was so, then why was everywhere still dark despite all attempts at willing some color in.

Or maybe, he was blind? Stuck in a perpetual state of darkness for the rest of his life.

Like most people, he had often played as a child at pretending to be blind, and, after keeping his eyes closed for lees than five minutes, he had reached the conclusion that blindness – undoubtedly a terrible affliction – might still be relatively bearable if the unfortunate victim had retained sufficient memory. Not just of the colors, but also of forms and planes, surfaces and shapes, assuming of course, that this one was not born blind.

Now, on the contrary, here he was, plunged into a darkness so stifling, so total, that it swallowed up not just the colors, but everything it embraced. It certainly didn't seem so bearable at the moment.

He tried to move his hands in front of his face, nervous, as if he was swimming in a black sea, but couldn't. Panic gave way to confusion. Blindness assuredly has nothing to do with the loss of a human's extremities. He was undoubtedly sure that the two weren't related in any way or the other. And it wasn't like being stabbed in the stomach could lead to the amputation of his limbs. So why couldn't he feel any part of his body?

Tears of helplessness sprang to his eyes. Or rather, he anticipated them, but felt no salty buildup or its movement down his cheeks.

A minute later, because of one of those common abdications of humans, that chooses to give up in certain moments of anguish or despair, when, if it were guided by logic alone, all his nerves should be alert and tense, a kind of weariness crept over him – more drowsiness than real fatigue – but just as heavy. He dreamt at once that he was forever closing and opening his eyes, and that, on each occasion, as if he were returning from a journey, he found waiting for him, firm and unaltered, all the forms and colors of the world as he knew it. His body whole and not lacking in any way or form.

Beneath this reassuring certainty, he perceived nevertheless, the dull nagging of uncertainty. Perhaps it was a deceptive dream, a dream from which he would have to emerge sooner or later, without knowing at this moment what reality awaited him.

**Malicious Intent Detection… confirmed. Skill successfully acquired**.

His carefully cultivated delusion was shattered with those words. Malicious intent? But he couldn't see nor hear anything. He couldn't even feel the surface upon which he lay upon. How was he to escape the malicious being when he couldn't even differentiate between directions; for all he knew, he was moving _toward_ the malicious being.

**Confirmed. Skill 'Sensory Perception' acquired.**

Immediately there was light, movement, color, all mixed up, all meaningless, a blur. Until it began to make sense, his incessant experience, categorization, memory, re-connection shaping the world around him. And though he could differentiate what he looked at, to have it suddenly thrust upon him without any warning was quite disconcerting.

Somehow, deep within, he suspected that the processing of the stimuli in his environment wasn't done by any conventional sensory receptors he knew of. The voice that predated the gaining of his sight could attest to that.

Under the bright, yellow sun the rolling forest below lay bathed in a golden light. Dotted below was a motionless carpet of flowers, glittering like glowing jewels against the dark earth. Rooted in the ground around him like knights of old, the trees stood. Twisted and gnarled as oaks, their brown boles and branches were veiled by luxurious cloud of leafage, virulent green.

A picturesque landscape he had never seen before, a miasma of green, so vivid it seemed painted. As if untouched by the mistakes of the information age. A veritable paradise.

It was… unreal.

He had always been a great believer in empirical evidence, and here it was. Slowly, and with great reluctance, he had to accept the reality of the situation he was in.

This was not the Earth he knew. It was a sudden realization, one influenced by the many hours spend behind gaming consoles and anime-related tools. It was made apparent by the fact he felt no smaller than a ball and moved like a slug, contracting and relaxing his body.

Then a great hissing like a wind swept up among the trees behind him. An explosion of bark occurred as an oddly shaped bolt ripped through the greenery and plunged in the tree, mere millimeters from him. It brushed against his body, a rippling sensation occurring from the point of contact. The projectile began melting, being drawn into him. But before any part of it could be taken into him, a force – completely catching him off-guard as his entire focus was on the melting object – slammed into him, launching him away at an astonishing speed.

The acceleration was intense; his body zipping along through the forest with a bird hot on his proverbial heels, what he now realized were the avian's feathers cutting through the air, whizzing dangerously past his body. Having reached the maximum height of his projection, he began his descent downwards, his mouth _open_ in a wordless scream.

How was he to land with no body part?

As that thought occurred to him, he felt his body crash through leaves, going through branches after branches until he collided with the ground. All through the trip he'd braced himself for waves of paralyzing pain, which thankfully never came.

It was a surprise. A pleasant one no doubt. But how was that possible? Was this body more durable than he had thought? Or could he not feel pain?

**Received. You have acquired Pain Nullification, which interrupts the creation of pain. Your Melee Attack Resistance has reduced the amount of damage taken. The amount of damage your body has incurred is forty-eight percent. The intrinsic slime skill Self-Regeneration has taken effect. Would you like to support it with your 'Predator' unique skill? **

**Yes **

**No**

Oh. So, it would be akin to blocking any signal from the pain receptor in a human being. Just, more… straightforward. Besides, he had taken damage from his impromptu drop-in and if he was reading between the lines clearly, it would seem he had regenerated whatever body mass he had lost. It seemed self-regen was a basic skill for the species he was. Which was, unfortunately, a slime.

_Why was he a slime?_

His question went unanswered as high above, a million leaves rustled in the morning breeze. The branches groaning as weights settled on it.

From a branch not five feet above him hung a large, lumpy avian-like creature the size of a child. Next to the creature hung another, like a cluster of huge black grapes. Mutant, bone-plated grapes if the details were needed. They were like the one that had tried and failed to skewer him.

_Oh God, it came back with reinforcements._

The creature nearest him, and something told him that it was the one that had chased him, suddenly moved.

He blinked. Two wings unfolded from the creature. A bone-plated triangular face tilted toward him, exposing pupil-less eyes. Four, large, red, pupil-less eyes. A thin, black tongue snaked out of the likewise black beak and tested the air.

His metaphoric heart crashed into his throat. He jerked his eyes to the other creatures. They were numerous, clustered together, clinging to the branches surrounding him, peering at him with red eyes too many for their angular faces but yet somehow fitted. The avian-like creature closest to him opened its beak, bursting out with a murderous-filled raucous shout_._

**Confirmed. Murderous intent… detected.**

He screamed. His world washed with darkness.

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

Faintly, and from far away, she heard a scream, its vestiges echoing in her mind, beckoning. Then silence – and a whispering that rose to rhythmic exclamations of pain.

A moment of contemplation, then she touched her heel to her horse's flank and rode across the path in the direction of the sound, cloak of forest green swirling from her shoulders. She rode under heavy, drooping branches taking note not to let one snag at her cover.

From out of the woods, suddenly, startling, a noise rang upon the air. In the same instant there was a wild crashing in the underbrush, and outburst of shouts and cries, and the morning was laced with the squawks of familiar creatures. The road was suddenly thronging with Nevermores who swarmed about a golden object ahead of her, grappling, tearing at it with their beaks and talons.

Her horse reared wildly. She fought him hard, forcing him down again, while stirrings of confusion mounted in her brain. She could have sworn the voice came from amidst that flurry of black upon yellow.

Did it come from that…? No… _right_?

In her momentarily lapse of concentration, her horse fought back. She, recovering immediately, cracked her horse between the ears with rein-loops and struggled to keep her balance. In the end though, it didn't matter who or what spoke. A few Nevermores left alone are a few more that could join an attack later on against a defenseless village. She may not be a Huntress but that didn't mean it wasn't her duty as an empowered human to rid the world of the Grimm where she can.

The brown rod that was her weapon leapt into her hand as she hurled herself impulsively into the fray. Through the near-darkness of her cowl, Amber's eyes glowed.

He – that is to say, the anthropomorphic slime – saw, during the poking and tearing, lances of flames striking down creature after creature as a figure floated through the air. Even within the veil that hid her features, he could see that her eyes were alit with flames, a glazing blaze of amber, unnatural it may be in his world but probably not in this. Through it her gaze caught his, or rather, she had looked in his general direction and him, into her eyes. Power kindled in them, deep and unstirring, dangerous yet oddly mesmerizing.

Oh my God… _is she the freaking Avatar?_

That moment was dispelled taking with it that train of thought, as her attention was once more captured by the black creatures that focused entirely on him for unknown reasons. Air slammed into the fray, tearing him away from the creatures. Up and up he went through a thickening, visible wind, the tremendous gale blowing upon him seeking to twirl him away from his death. Far below, dizzying far, lightning crackled out incessantly, while rocking crashes of thunder reverberated along the green cover of the surrounding trees.

Storm clouds whirled and thickened while blinding flashes spurted from them. The thunder never ceased, it pulsed, rising and falling in a steady cadence. He didn't know who she was, didn't know if this response was wholly warranted, but as more creatures swarmed around squawking, he was thankful, regardless of the response being somewhat overkill. He didn't know what would happen if he incurred 100 percent damage, didn't even want to imagine that. It might very well mean his death, or at the very least might spell doom for him.

Louder grew the thunders. Brighter the lightning flamed. The storm clouds rolled, palpable, veined with white lightning and shaking with deep booms.

Then, suddenly, back rushed the cloud-masses. A tremendous, nearly unbearable vibration ripped through the forest, shaking it like a sapling. Storm clouds receded and the thunder died. And in an almost disgustingly slow motion, with nothing keeping him aloft and away from the action, he fell.

He was caught – quite easily he might add – by the hands of the lady, confusion evident in her gaze.

She cocked her head, her eyes roaming his body even as she slowly floated down. No desire lurked beneath them, only curiosity. He didn't know whether to be sad or happy she wasn't turned on by an anthropomorphic slime. He looked about him and was shocked to see the dissipating remains of the creatures that had an unhealthy desperation for him. He was sure of what to feel for them – vindictive pleasure.

"What are you?"

_Are you trying to talk to me? Cause I can't really communicate verbally for some reason. _

Confusion and shock came immediately, then paranoia.

"You can hear and respond to me? In my head?" She replied out, then face-palmed once she remembered that the yellow goop could not physically reply. Mentally, she added. _How's that possible?_

He gave her the closest he could to a mental shrug. How, indeed, was he capable of telepathy or a variant of it? Was it an intrinsic skill? Or something he had just picked up? It was a theory, but he believed it was as a result of communicating with the voice in his head. It opened it up to the flow of other's thoughts.

_Anything's possible with me, _he replied. Which was the truth as he could, in principle, do anything do-able and perhaps, the impossible. It all depended on the circumstance at hand.

She wasn't contented with the answer, but it's not like he knew how he came to be like this. The only thing he did know was that he was a human before, and now, a slime.

_Okay, I will accept that for now, but you owe me an explanation later on. Besides, what's your name, little guy? _She gave him – not that she was certain of his gender or if he had any – an inquisitive smile, her body leaning slightly on the aged and battled-scarred wood she stuck to the ground.

His name? It was…

What _was_ his name? He… couldn't remember…

Slowly… slowly, knowledge darted through his mind in lightning-flashes, too swiftly to shape into words.

He knew now, he remembered.

His life came back in pictures that went vividly by and were printed forever in his soul. He had known he was human, but lacked the details of his previous life.

But now he knew. He remembered his family; remembered his seven sisters and the shenanigans they had been through. Recalled his less than bright idea of running away from his home and enrolling in a college far from his loved ones. Remembered his death.

He knew of his identity.

If he could grin, he would have worn one now. Instead, he settled for projecting his happiness through the mental link they apparently shared.

His name… his name was…

_Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies loves it._

. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . .

Thin smoke made a column against the darkening sky. They had decided to make camp, or rather Amber had decided and Jaune had agreed without much effort or coercion on her part. She was the first human he'd met in what felt like weeks but was probably a day. He was bound to be a bit submissive.

During a moment alone, Amber having gone by the riverside to take a bath, expressively warning him not to peep – as if he would – he steeled himself, and confronted the voice.

He coughed. Faced with how to proceed, he was at a loss. How was he to actually converse with the voice in his head?

**Received. You need not say anything, merely think of it.**

Think of it. Well, he talked to himself in his mind all the time; this shouldn't be any different. But… in the end, it really was different. How was it possible? As a matter of fact, how was any of this possible?

**Received. This is the effect of the unique skill "Great Sage." The skill has taken effect, making it more immediately available.**

Not the voice, dammit. How was he reborn as a slime? In another fucking world?

He knew he was freaking out, but it was long overdue. No one in his position would just roll over and accept this. For fuck sake, he was a bloody slime!

**Received. Answer not available at this time.**

Jaune, instead of raging at the unfairness of the situation, simply sighed. Nothing apart from a slow descent into madness could be gained from shouting at the voice in his head. He had to calm down, no matter how hard it seemed at the moment. Having taken a minute to compose imself, he realized just how amazing having a voice in his head was. It was like a search engine, just more magical in nature. A Magical Search Engine, or M.S.E. for short. Any question that popped to mind, it instantly provided the answer. It was super helpful, especially in an unfamiliar world like this.

God, he sounded like an underpaid telemarketer.

Moving on, he gathered his wits and posed a question.

What exactly is that 'Predator' skill?

**Received. The unique skill "Predator" chiefly comprises the following five effects: **

**Predation: Takes the target into your body. Lesser chance of success if the target has its own consciousness. Can be targeted on organic and inorganic objects, as well as skills and magic. **

**Analysis: Analyzes and researches targets taken into your body. Let's you create craftable items. If the required materials are present, allows you to make a copy of the item. Successful Analysis of the casting method allows you to learn the target's skills and magic. **

**Stomach: Stores the Predated target. Can also store materials created via Analysis. Items stored in your stomach are unaffected by time. **

**Mimicry: Reproduces the form and skills of absorbed targets. Only available once the target has been Analyzed. **

**Isolate: Stores harmful effects incapable of being analyzed, neutralizing them and breaking them down into magical force.**

_Um… o…kay. _At least he wasn't a carnivorous slime like he had presumed.

Wait. Was that what was about to happen to that feather? He was about to go all 'Predator' on it? Did that mean he could have been able to make copies of it and shoot it as weapons at those creatures. If he had known, those birds would have become shish kebab. It would have been poetic justice, felled by the very weapon they wield.

He needed to test the skill out, especially the mimicry portion of the skill. He was tired of being a slime even though he's been one for barely a day.

_Now… where would I find an animal?_

As soon as he had finished with that thought, there was a rustle nearby, and a rabbit hopped out of the vegetation.

Thank you, universe, for coincidences.

He made to move, only to stop once he realized that the in the time it will take for him to cross that distance, the rabbit would have been half-way to Vale. A tad bit exaggerated but no less true. What he needed was a way to move quickly. Like a flash-step without legs, or arms, or a body… Simply put, he needed a more efficient method of movement instead of creeping gradually.

So… how to go about that?

A moment of silence as he made, re-worked and sorted out between ideas seen on shows in quick succession.

He had a crazy plan that just might work. What if he was able to apply enough force to lift him up and away? He could use the 'Predator' skill as it had an effect that could help in this regard.

He started taking in air – unsure of how he felt about the power mirroring that of Upchuck – filling his Predator stomach until he was tired, not of doing it but of the action itself. And in one massive outburst, he expelled it like he was wringing out his stomach.

The sense of release was exhilarating.

Suddenly, he heard a voice in his mind:

**Compressed-air Propulsion skill acquired.**

It was simple physics. An application of Newton's third law – Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The compressed air released from him is a force applied to the ground. The ground, then, applies an equal and opposite reaction force that propels him into the air.

Turns out implementation of a given theory is a better teacher than most Ph. D. holder.

Jaune rocketed backwards at astonishing speed, rocketing along the ground. So lost in the sensation he didn't even notice the deer-in-the-headlight look the rabbit had on as it froze on spot, until it was too late.

He felt his body crash into something, the thing – which he quickly identified as his test subject #1 – accompanied him for the ride. Unfortunately cut short as they both crashed into a tree. The end result was definitely not a sight for poor eyes.

He only received minor damage as the furry animal took the brunt of the impact at the cost of its life. His self-regen activating, he set about accomplishing his goal. A callous thing to do as he disregarded the animal's gruesome end but it wasn't like the crash killed the mammal. It had died of heart attack way before splatting. He was still at fault but indirectly; that was good enough for his conscience.

He cautiously crept over the carcass until he covered every inch of it. As expected, the area where the animal remains met his body began to melt. He didn't need M.S.E. to tell him that the components of the corpse beneath him were being taken into his body.

His Magical Search Engine rang in his mind.

**Analysis complete. **

**Mimic: 'Pygmy rabbit' form obtained. Pygmy rabbit intrinsic skills, 'Empathy Sense', 'Power Jump' and 'Panoramic Vision' acquired.**

He became giddy as he felt the transformation overtake him and couldn't help his exclamation.

"Going hero!"

A poof of smoke was the only proof of his Henge.

He was no more a slime! Nothing could ruin this—

_So hungry. Would love me some sweet rabbit stew..._

Lightning arched around his form, bursting his blood vessel and upsetting the electrical rhythm of his heart. Jaune could only sigh as he underwent cardiac arrest.

* * *

**Present Status**

**Name:** Jaune Arc

**Race:** Slime

**Protection:**

**Title:**

**Magic:**

**Intrinsic skills:** Absorb – Dissolve – Self-regeneration

**Unique skills:** Great sage – Predator

**Extra skills:** Sensory perception – Compressed-air propulsion

**Common skills:** Telepathy – Murderous Intent Detection

**Acquired skills: **

Pygmy rabbit: Empathy Sense – Power Jump – Panoramic vision

**Tolerance:** Pain Nullification – Electricity Resistance – Melee Attack Resistance – Temperature Resistance – Paralysis Resistance

A former human who shifted into the body of a slime after his random and slightly disappointing death. Possessing powers above the norm for a usually inanimate toy product, and with a gifted mind for 21st century pop culture references and educational trivia, would he take the world of Remnant by storm or be wiped out in his first actual fight?

* * *

**Please follow, favorite and review with your thoughts and criticism. Writing a story with the main character as a famous toy product really isn't as fun or easy to write as you think. Certain things are affected and/or avoided. Plus, it serves as a motivation for me to write more.**

* * *

**Omake**

Silence.

Jaune couldn't stand the silence. He had enough of it when he first awoke to last him a lifetime. Not only was it so boring Professor Binns could have fallen asleep, the rhythmic movement of the horse was starting to burn at his nerves. He needed a way to liven up the atmosphere and maybe get a laugh or two from the pretty elemental who held onto him.

If he was a figment of someone else's imagination a lightbulb would have appeared overhead. As he was in fact real and totally not made-up, he settled for a smirk.

"Wanna hear a story, Amber?"

"Not really…" came the unenthusiastic reply. This had been the norm for a long while, it certainly frustrated him. He was pretty sure she did it on purpose just to troll him.

"Don't worry, it's a funny one. Read it up somewhere. So, the story goes like this. Once—"

"Really?" Her eyebrows were up, her features slightly condescending. "Cliché much."

Jaune, using so much willpower he could power a Green Lantern's ring indefinitely, clamped down on the urge to snarl at the Maybe-Possible-Avatar. He opted to continue his story as if he wasn't just interrupted. "—upon a time there were three little bunny rabbits—"

"Serious question: Like what's your fixation with rabbits? Any fetish I should know about?"

He gnashed his teeth in frustration but proceeded as he had before. "—and their names are Dandelion, Flopperty and Alan. They lived in a large—"

"I mean it's not like it's possible for you to get it on with your hands – oops. Sorry, low blow. I forgot. But let's ask ourselves, and by that I mean you, why animals and not humans?"

"They lived in large semi-detached rabbit—"

"I heard some girls are into large phallus. You can fit yourself into a container shaped like one and voila! A bored girl's fun toy."

"They lived in… they lived in large semi—"

"Or you can just continue with your rabbit fetish. I won't judge. I _have _seen worst things. I mean I'd seen a man and a pig going wild on—"

"Okay! Please! I beg you. I won't try to liven the atmosphere or strike up unwanted conversation between us again. You have made your point. God, women could be vindictive sometimes." He muttered the last part, no more feeling like talking after viewing the image that sentence brought to his mind. It wasn't… nice.

From that point onward, no conversation was made between the duo. They rode on in silence, the slime in a state trapped between sulking and glaring at his partner, and the partner in question, a smirk seemed to be permanently etched on her face.

* * *

**How was my omake? Good? Bad? Certainly it isn't the later. Remember to review guys please. like please review, follow and favorite my story. it makes me happy and gives me the morale to write more****. Plus I have a target of +100 follows before I update, so please. See you next update.**


	3. - Desire

**As it is taken from the POV of characters who do not know everything that goes on, I advise you not to take everything to heart as they may be wrong. And it is hard to write fight scenes so I hope you won't give me grief over the one in this chapter. Enjoy.**

**And take note, this chapter is taken from the POV of Jaune and Amber. A line break is a change of POV.**

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

The boughs of the trees arched above them, like skeletal hands reaching for the sky. The road continued before them, a leaf-carpeted tunnel through the vivid green forest. The sodden leaves had been flattened by so many rains that the horse didn't even kick them up; the dense mat only served to muffle the sounds of his hooves. There were no birds, only the occasional sound of a branch cracking somewhere off in the shadows of the underbrush.

Amber and Jaune rode well past the night to reach the nearest settlement. With the dawning rays of the sun went the last hint of cold; as the first dim, red light filtered through the branches, a warm wind began to sigh among them.

Amber, finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open as the seconds passed, was strongly considering falling asleep on the horse regardless of the consequences and was definitely glad that all settlements, however small or primitive, had lodgings.

This settlement, as it loomed up in front of them, did not appear to be that small. Hopefully, it was not primitive either and of course, had lodgings.

* * *

**Chapter Two – Desire**

* * *

They were part of the stream of people entering the village, though they knew not the reason why the place was packed. Amber guided her horse through the crowds, while Jaune sought to entrench everything he saw into his memory. The people were dressed in gaudy colors, as if for a festival. Never in his life had he been to a place like this. The marketplace – even he knew that much though he had never stepped into a bustling center of commerce of this size, until today that is – was almost more than a sheltered teen from a technological advanced world could take. Jaune _blinked _his eyes at the bright colors – piles of orange and yellow fruits, hangings of bright blue and green, ropes of gold and silver chains. Some people were staring as openly as he was. Others shoved their goods under people's noses, shouting for them to buy. Women in tight dresses eyed men from doorways, and children ran underfoot, sneaking their hands into pockets and purses.

Amber missed nothing. _Keep an eye on the saddlebags_, she projected into his mind. _There are some here that would steal from children if it meant it ensured their survival. _She seemed to be directing this comment at a tall young man walking alongside them.

And as if he sensing her thoughts the young man grinned, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. "I ain't done nothing." He said innocently. The _'yet'_ went unsaid.

Amber snorted and kicked her horse onward. The man winked one bright hazel eye at her, though not before eyeing Jaune curiously, and vanished into the crowd. He watched him until he couldn't see hair nor hide of him, even with his heightened senses. He wondered if he really was a thief. He seemed very nice.

They left the marketplace, taking a route up a long, sloping hill, getting into the village proper. The village was a moderately large one, single-storied – though a few where multi-storied – houses of gray wood and darker gray stone, topped with tiled roofs, all clustered about a central square in which lay a 'town hall' of sorts. There were no bright painted shutters here, which meant that whatever was going on was restrictive to the market. The inn was unfortunately so small it obviously had no guest-rooms; those over-nighting would probably have to sleep in the common room on the benches when the inn closed for the night, or if lucky, board with a good Samaritan in his home.

Going by their general luck, they might be hard-pressed to find someone willing to take them in for a night or two.

They were met on the road by two different parties demanding justice. They saw it coming easily enough and so stopped a few yards away.

"Steady," Amber said to her horse as they rode into a press of farmers in heavy brown homespun, who crowded up against a man atop a horse with their petitions. The man did his best to sort out the arguments, then finally lost his patience and sharply ordered them to hold their tongues.

He must have been the Mayor or a high ranking officer as the clamor died down quickly. He managed to ascertain that there were two aggrieved parties, both as alike to Jaune's eyes as a pair of crows – brown hair, thick brown beards, nearly identical clothing of brown homespun. After listening to both sides, and putting up with each one interrupting the other until he was ready to take a stick to both of them, he decreed that the argument was moot until third parties could be questioned.

The dispute was a trivial one by his and probably everyone else's standard, over a cow and her calf. The facts were that a bull had somehow made its way into a field containing a cow in season; not surprisingly, the calf resulted. The calf was quite plainly the offspring of the bull in question, nor did the cow's owner deny this. What _was_ under dispute was how the bull had gotten at the crow in the first place.

The cow's owner claimed angrily that the owner of the bull had allowed it to stray, and that it had found its own way there, and thus he had incurred no stud fee. He pointed to the damage done to his hedges, and inquired with self-righteous wrath if anyone thought he would ruin his own enclosure to save himself the fee.

The bull's owner claimed just as vociferously that the owner of the cow had enticed the bull into the pasture with the express purpose of saving himself the stud fee.

The high ranking man looked helpless; this must not be an area he had any expertise at all. Jaune felt the need to help the poor man out but lacked the necessary means to do so. _Luckily, he knew someone_, he thought to himself with a smirk.

He nudged Amber up beside him by moving his upper body, and telepathically whispered (for no apparent reason), _All right, Amber – between both of us, you are the only one equipped to handle this. So… any ideas?_

She started just a little; possibly only someone watching for reactions would have noticed it. "I… I think so," she said, slowly. "It's like a dispute we had once back at my village."

_Then take over for that man. He looks way out of his depth._

She did, asking a few questions then going among the rest of the villagers to make inquiries into the habits of each of the parties in question. At first the people were wary of answering the newcomer, but with a positive nod from the man, they did, slowly at first, but as her skills and experience in matters like this shew forth, they began replying in earnest. It was generally agreed that while the owner of the cow was parsimonious, he was far too stingy to have ruined his own fences just to save a stud fee. And the bull's owner had a habit of allowing it to stray, being too lazy to fix breaks in his own enclosures until after the beast had escaped yet another time.

But then she surprised Jaune by asking a source he never would have considered – some of the children gathered at the edge of the crowd. After sidelong glances to be certain no one was likely to tell them to hold their tongues, they told Amber that this particular cow was _never_ kept in the field where the bull had supposedly found her. She was quite valuable, and her owner always keeps an eye on her.

Amber returned to the disputants. "This is my first conclusion," she said, slowly, and with an oddly expressionless tone. "There is no doubt that your bull _did _stray, and since it is quite profitable that it did the damage claimed to the fences, you owe this man for the repairs he had to make."

The owner of the bull looked extremely disgruntled; the cow's owner gloated. Amber did not allow him gloat for long.

"You, on the other hand," she told him – not quite looking at him, "have never kept your cow in that particular field. You must have seen that the bull had broken in, and decided that since the damage was already done, you might as well save yourself the stud fee. So you moved your cow to the field where the bull was. Because of this, my second conclusion is that you owe him half the stud fee he would normally have charged you."

Now both of them looked chagrined much to Jaune's amusement. Served them both right.

"All things considered, I should think you are probably even." Amber added.

They grudgingly agreed that this was the case when the man from before (the mayor or high ranking official) didn't disagree with her words.

"Don't leave yet!" she said to the owner of the bull, and showing a little more animation. "You have been letting a potentially dangerous animal roam loose. My third conclusion is that anyone who finds your bull roaming and confines it in a safe place for you to take home is entitled to have his cows serviced for nothing to pay for his trouble. It is fair and should induce you to take better care of your stock in the future."

The grins creasing the faces of the rest of the villagers made it clear they considered Amber's rulings to have been equitable and appropriate – and they were certainly popular. Amber smiled back, tentatively, some of the strain gone from her eyes.

With children ranging along before and behind them, they continued down the village. Due to Amber's help in solving the conflict, the man – who they finally learnt was the mayor – had offered them a single room in the town hall.

Amber had dismounted, and holding him to her waist, removed a somewhat large, fibrous bundle from the saddlebag. She hauled the bedroll inside the room, then began to get them set up while Jaune kept to himself on the side of the room. Her horse, as part of the mayor's gratitude, was now in the stabling at the side of the building, free of charge.

To their immense relief, the place seemed to be quite sturdy, and well maintained. They had learnt the place served as a meeting hall, a fact the ancient and battered marble-topped table could attest to. She got a fire blazing on the cold hearth, the flames high enough to provide warmth from the cold of the previous day. She went out to procure a pot for use and had come back with one filled with enough water for her to wash. She heated it and had cleaned herself up in a separate room, changing into a worn shift dress good enough for outings.

They had decided that remaining cooped up with each other for an unknown amount of time would likely result in the death of one of them (most likely Jaune) and so, had gone out, each in a different direction. They were not to be far from each other in the unlikely case that something was to go wrong. And if something went wrong, Jaune was to scream as he had done the first time they had met. They had not tested their telepathic distance limit, but that was a thought that quickly went to the back of his mind. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

Though she might get on his nerves more times than he could count because of her trolling, Jaune would be forever grateful to the Fall Maiden. He might have assuredly met someone who would have helped him out in the ways she had, but he didn't know how long it would take. Through their journey, during the times where the silence had been so stifling they just had to talk, she had informed him on the little she knew of this unfamiliar world he was in, after he had told her about himself and his condition.

However, it did not subtract from the fact that he needed some time to himself. And what better place suited for thinking than the local bar. As if to expatiate that train of thought, a hapless, drunk fool was thrown through the window. In his previous life, whenever he witnessed a scene such as that on the TV, he had always imagined seeing it firsthand. It was, as he had expected, deeply satisfying to watch.

Music, rock-and-roll to be exact, greeted his small form as he entered the building. It was as full as the market had been earlier in the day with patrons stacked three deep around the bar and pretty waitresses in casual street clothes dashing about with their trays. Dim lighting came from large red globes(?) – **Dust**, his B.S.E. informed – affixed to the rough-hewn wooden walls. He regarded the thoughts on how fine particles of matter could act as a light source for later.

Jaune ambled to the rear section of the mahogany bar where the bartender stood, wondering absentmindedly how he would go about ordering a drink. He needn't have to worry as a glass was unceremoniously dropped in front of him. Way above his height but still in front.

"On the house, ki-eh-thing," the bartender struggled for words on his appearance before settling, with a sigh, for 'thing'. "I saw you with that brown chick during that altercation. Seemed like she got a good head on her and seeing as you are alive _in a sense_, don't bother about paying. Like I said, on the house."

Well, that was oddly convenient. And slightly annoying. Didn't the universe want him to learn to speak? Or was he to remain mute till it was time for him to sleep with the fishes?

Using the skill, '**Power Jump**', he was able to land perfectly on the stool, mentally thanking the bartender for the straw he provided with the drink. He knew he had no need for sustenance, yet, nothing could beat the comfort the simple things brought sometimes.

A pretty brunette waitress dressed in jeans, dropped her round tray on top of the service bar. "Gimme a seven and seven," she shouted above the raucous music and chatter. "A Cutty Sark on the rocks, and two whiskey sours!"

"Coming right up!" the bartender tossed the bottle high in the air, caught it by the neck with his right hand, and poured the clear brown fluid into a shot glass.

The waitress spun around, threw both her hands to the left, thrust her fanny to the right, and locked in with the music.

A black-beard man sitting at the bar watched appreciatively and yelled, "Shake that thing, baby!"

For some very few horrifying seconds, Jaune thought the man was referring to him.

"Yeah!" agreed the bartender, whose nose was full of some white—oh my…! How can they trust a man certainly on cloud nine to do his job well?

The waitress from before wagged her tongue from side to side and rolled her eyes as she hopped to the music. Another waitress joined the dance, this one more tanned than the first and possessing an extra appendage in the form of a tail to his minor surprise. The black-beard man chewed his cigar and clapped his hands to the beat of the music, shouting encouragements to the few women who were still glued to their seats.

The bartender – who he really needed to have a name to go with the face – scooped ice into his cocktail shaker for the whiskey sours. He snatched the bar whiskey from its slot and poured booze onto the ice cubes, where it sent up a thin curl of vapor. "Yeah!" He laughed at the ceiling, sounding as if he had inhaled laughing gas.

The man's state of mind was beginning to worry Jaune.

It was quite a party, making him miserable as it hammered in the fact he couldn't get it on with a girl since he was reborn as a slime and might very well die as one. Plus, he was pretty sure no sane girl with normal needs would agree to date a slime.

_Who said you needed a sane girlfriend?_

As if spurred on by that thought from a voice he doesn't talk about, his eyes caught a brewing situation. Why a brewing situation? He didn't need to be Megamind to see the way the continuous pesters from the black-beard man was slowly but surely eroding at a girl's already frazzled nerves, cause no one nurses a glass of alcohol in a dingy bar for the music.

She was a fair-skinned woman with ashen-black hair that covers her left eye, which was a bright amber.

It was possible she and Amber were sisters, or at least, half-sisters due to the difference in their skin tone. Which, oddly enough, could be explained by the Maiden's nomadic ways.

She was also bristling in fury at the black-beard man's continued pestering for her to stand and dance, forgetting the other lady sat at her table who was likewise attractive. His harass certainly got her to stand, only it wasn't for the reason he thought.

The ever faithful, **Murderous Intent detected**, was all the warning he had before an arc cut through the air. The man had stilled, looked down to the hilt of a black sword plunged into his chest. He had stood for a moment, blood flecking his lips, then fell, the sword fading. A bow appeared in her hand, of the same make and design as the lone sword.

Jaune couldn't move his eyes away from the black-beard man's stilled body. Shock, disbelief, and oddly relief that it wasn't him, passed through his mind. The man lay there, eyes wide open in pained surprise. His final moments that of a man put down because he couldn't just take no for an answer. A pitiful way to die.

His body felt jumbled. Disorganized. He felt clammy and breathless though he knew he had no reason to breathe. Thirsty though he could survive indefinitely off foods and drinks. He started producing sweat, a phenomenon that made no sense as he had no sweat glands or any glands at all for that matter. It was all in his mind, he knew, but couldn't stop it. It was like he was experiencing phantom reactions; his brain being fooled by the shock he felt into thinking he was still human. He didn't know how to respond because of what happened and so did the only thing he could at that moment.

Jaune screamed.

For the first time since he arrived in this world, he was genuinely scared shitless. The quote, 'be afraid, be very afraid" came to mind, not helping his situation at all.

"Is it really true that some days are unlucky, no matter what you do?" A question softly asked plunged the bar into silence as everyone and everything stopped to stare at the raven-haired woman. "Or is it…" she shook her head. "Never mind. It isn't important... What is, however, is the fact that I have finally caught up with you…"

A pause.

"…Fall Maiden."

Thanks to the ability gotten from the rabbit '**Paranoiac Vision**', he was able to see the stunned and stricken face of Amber at the doorway – a haggard-looking middle-aged man beside her – before chaos broke loose and pandemonium struck.

Amber and the man quickly erupted into action with Amber moving after the woman who had the disposition of a leader. The middle-aged man shifted his weight, stepping backward to create space just as one of the leader's cronies – the boy – attacked. He knocked aside the first blow, parried the second, slid under the third, the man's blade raining down in a series of forms to fast for Jaune's mind to follow. He parried, sliced, stabbed, riposted, lunged and countered … and then it was over, fast as it had begun, the middle-aged man's sword descended against the boy's neck. But suddenly he jumped back to avoid an attack only him could see, yet unable to dodge a bullet to the chest that launched him through the side of the building. Jaune didn't know what had happened but couldn't find it in himself to worry for the man. He was without a doubt stronger than the both, Jaune felt though he knew not why, and discerned that whatever trick they used won't be able to save them from him. No. He was more worried for the girl he had met a short while back but considered a dear friend.

* * *

Amber, in the midst of protecting the few remaining patrons in the bar, was slammed in the back of her shoulder by an arrow. Pain erupted through her back, straight through the muscle, and lodged in her back. She had been careless, not focusing her aura where her attacker may be but had been using it to protect the civilians. In the haze of the chaos, she couldn't concentrate. She was at a complete disadvantage in a place like this, unable to utilize the full capabilities of the Maidens powers in fear of the civilians getting in the crossfire or them discovering her identity as the Fall Maiden. Her attacker, on the other hand, couldn't care less for them, effectively capitalizing on her disadvantage.

She tried to push herself up, but her wounded shoulder buckled against her weight, and her chin smashed against the floor. Pain and confusion clamped a dark hand over her eyes, and Amber fought against beckoning oblivion. The arrow hadn't killed her, but the sharp head ground against the bone every time he moved, each hot swell of agony threatening to drown her.

_Get up, get up Amber!_ Someone was shouting in her mind, pushing feebly against her armpit. Jaune, she realized. _Get up!_

Amber bit into the side of her cheek hard enough to draw blood, the bright new pain somehow balancing the old, holding it at bay. Her arm should have been useless below the shoulder, but she could feel knotted strength even in the mangled tissue, her aura empowering her. _You can move,_ she growled to herself, _or everyone including you would die._

She moved, standing, her hands grabbing at the arrow and pulling it out, fighting the urge to blank out from the pain.

It wasn't hard to see the perpetrator, the one who knew who – or rather – what she was and sought to end her. She stood amidst the chaos, a calm solitary figure whose beauty has probably left men, and a few women, captivated.

"I want to be strong. I want to be feared. I want to be powerful. I _desire_ the power you waste. Give me what's rightfully mine." The leader snarled, falling into an easy stance as amber circled to her right – just outside the reach of her sword's swing.

Her opponent held herself with an easy confidence, assured in her perceived superiority. While Amber's reach was longer and the other woman would have to get closer to use her swords, trapped in this building and not willing to destroy it any further and endanger the civilians that watched their fight, she would have to minimize the use of her power.

Amber continued to drift around the leader, maintaining the same distance and letting her staff twirl hypnotically around her body. As if she was mentally accessing the woman's armament, and trying – vainly – to ascertain a weak spot in her form. She stopped being aware of breathing, as her mind unconsciously focused on the subtle changes in the leader's posture and position.

Having completed two complete circuits of the woman's stationary position, Amber settled into a low stance, staff ready, and waited. _How long?_

The leader leaped forward, sword #1 lashing out at Amber's neck. It was a marvelously delivered blow, the weight of her opponent trailing behind the sword as it whirled toward her. Waiting behind it was sword #2, held high in preparation to swing down and slice through bone. A less experienced fighter would have expected sword #2 to come first, but Amber had never doubted the first strike would come from sword #1. She slammed the pommel of her staff against the woman's midsection effectively disrupting her attack.

She may rely on her powers too much but that didn't mean she was entirely defenseless without it.

The leader reacted quickly, dropping one of her swords and grabbing a hold of her staff, dragging it downwards, before stepping forward and to the outside. She smashed the haft of her remaining sword at the base of Amber's rib cage, only the instinctive application of her aura prevented her from being left gasping for breath.

She felt a knee coming up and knew if she stood still, her exposed stomach would be a natural target the leader won't miss. She could not step back quickly enough to avoid the strike either. Her only choice was to either move right or left, as in front left her open for the attack and moving behind would mean putting her back to the woman. She chose the only option that guaranteed her survival.

Amber darted to her left. As she moved, her left hand came up, lightning slashing across the gap between the base of the leader's neck, on the off chance she didn't think to spread, in a manner of speaking, her aura there. Sparks rang off the mystic shield with no sign of blood, and Amber had no other opportunity to investigate her attack as she jerked back, the woman's blade coming whirling past her nose, less than a finger's width in front of her face.

In the course of her jerking back, her staff was torn out of her grip. Instead of trying to retrieve it, she jabbed a hand into the leader's left armpit. She put as much aura as she could spare in the attack, and the woman collapsed around her hand, a muffled grunt of pain escaping her lips. Not wasting any time, Amber grabbed for the shoulder of the woman's dress, getting a fistful of blood-soaked cloth. Her lightning had caught the woman after all. Not fatally, but she had drawn blood. The leader was off-balance. It would be easy to throw her now. Once the woman was on the ground, the advantage she had would be negated and it would be much easier to end her.

Fire exploded across her back. The woman had managed to twist her sword and plant it into Amber's back, unknowingly directly at the same place her arrow had struck. Snarling like a wounded beast, Amber drove her right knee into her enemy's groin, sending the woman reeling. Her back muscles shrieked in agony as the leader tried to hang onto the sword; finally, Amber managed to twist away and pull the handle from her opponent's fingers.

They separated, each one missing their weapon or weapons as the case may be. Amber's staff lay in the rubble – the result of the escape of the patrons from the mini warzone not done in a safe and calm way as protocols expected – somewhere, and she tried to reach around and grasp the haft of the sword caught in her back. More pain lanced up her back and into the base of her skull as she twisted her body. Her fingers slipped on the bloody handle.

The leader recovered fast though she wobbled on her feet, and rushed forward. The woman snapped her right hand out and drove her fist into Amber's throat. Gagging, she barely managed to tuck her chin down but was hit again. The leader's fist scrapped across her jaw – once, twice.

Amber stumbled back. The woman pressed her advantage, pounding the Maiden with short jabs. They weren't terribly powerful hits, but the flurry punches kept her off balance, forcing her to retreat.

In a move, one timed perfectly correctly, the leader jumped on Amber, and twisting her body around found the pommel of the weapon and pulled it free. She jumped off the Maiden, skidding sharply on the floor, blade in a positon parallel to the ground.

As Amber made for a punch, an admittedly pitiful attack, her opponent jabbed upward with the sword in her left hand. She shoved the blade into the base of the Maiden's hand with all of her strength, and her fist cocked at a strange angle. Amber felt the blade grind against her bone, and screamed. She felt arms around her side and threw her weight against the leader in a desperate attempt to overwhelm her, moaning and spitting all the way. Her opponent, however, dropped her hips and twisted her body around as she swept her right leg back.

Amber tried to stop the throw, but was too off balance, and weak from the pain. She flew off her feet, and the leader still holding onto her arm, came tumbling with her. They crashed to the ground, and there was a smack as her head collided with the ground.

As darkness swarmed her vision, she made out Jaune wobbling his way toward her downed form. _Amber!_ He screamed, his fear and worry evident through their telepathic link.

She was touched but knew there was nothing a slime could do to save her, and so resolved herself for what would come next.

Her death, and the subsequent birth of a new...

* * *

"Fall Maiden," the leader spat in disgust, kneeling beside the prone form of his first friend, her sword poised over her heart.

No… No… He couldn't let her die…

_But I am just a useless slime. _

His inner thought was right, he realized dejectedly, stopping his movement. He was just a slime—

Unprompted, a memory came to mind.

_He started taking in air – unsure of how he felt about the power mirroring that of Upchuck – filling his Predator stomach until he was tired, not of doing it but of the action itself. And in one massive outburst, he expelled it like he was wringing out his stomach._

_The sense of release was exhilarating. _

_Suddenly, he heard a voice in his mind: _

_**Compressed-air Propulsion skill acquired.**_

It was the only skill he had that could double as an attack. It would, no, it must work. For Amber's and his sanity's sakes.

As he went about the process, he couldn't help but mentally smirk. It never sucked to be underestimated. Why? Because it leaves room for the underdog to sneak in his _final smash_ move. Case in point…

"Sky Dragon's roar!"

The gathered amount of air was released onto the unsuspecting sword-wielding bitch.

If he could laugh, he would have laughed out loud. A joyous laughter that melted the stress he felt. As it was, he settled for mentally smirking. As always.

Lesson learned kids. Never underestimate the power of a virgin reborn as an anthropomorphic slime.

* * *

**Prepare yourself for the next story I will upload, an RWBY one-shot involving Weiss and Ruby. If you are reading this, JBlase, your idea would soon be published. Hope you would enjoy this and that.**

**Possible Questions:**

**\- Why was Cinder and her cronies there?**

**\- Why was Qrow around?**

**\- Why didn't he interfere with the fight?**

**\- When will Jaune talk?**

**\- Is Cinder dead?**

**\- Will there be repercussions for Cinder blatantly calling Amber the Fall Maiden **

**They will all be answered in the next chapter. Don't worry, I know what I am writing.**


	4. - Play Your Role

**Sorry I updated late, being really busy. Am I happy with the way the chapter turned out? In a way because it accomplished what I wanted. Plus, I am experimenting with blatant humor, so bear with me and I hope you still enjoy it, especially the grisly scenes. The story is rated 'M' for a reason.**

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

**BEFORE FIGHT**

It was without a doubt a genius plan. Cinder scoffed. Of course it was, she made it and her intellect was practically unrivalled by mortals. Preparations had been made, traps had been set, and the bait – which was carefully constructed to tug at the heartstrings – was positioned correctly.

Yet, the Fall Maiden was not present.

She waited until it became clear she couldn't afford to do so for long. The Maiden, for reasons unknown, didn't use the route they stalked. A fact that grated on her nerves. Hungry and tired, she knew their chances of survival should the Grimm appear was close to none and so decided to head back to the inn in the nearest settlement, conveniently close by.

The village was rather well off, with fortified walls strong enough to resist attacks, able-bodied men that patrolled around it and houses made from bricks and steels rather than wood. They passed through a neighborhood of many low-level buildings – stores, single-family residences, a trailer park, and an old auto repair shop that catered to carriages, a major form of transportation in this settlement.

The inn was a non-decrepit building, nearly painted green, and if it wasn't for the sign affixed on its front, anyone would have missed it. Like most of the buildings around, it was a single-story house, though it was outfitted with a pitched roof that was elevated in the center, high enough for someone to walk across the attic floor in a standing position.

They entered inside, the bell above the door jingling, announcing their presence to the clerk who sat behind a reception desk. Signing back in, they quickly moved in the direction of the room they were to stay for the duration of their mission, Room 24, at the far end of the inn.

She was annoyed by their failure, her displeasure known through her glares, and after disposing whatever belonging they had on them, went to the village bar. Maybe, the alcohol would help elevate her bad mood.

A pity the foolish man thought it possible to coerce her in a manner most displeasing and unfortunate. For him, at least.

. . .

**PRESENT**

The attack hurled her through the building and against the tree with a force that broke apart her already diminished aura. Rebounding from the impact that would have splintered the bones of a lesser man, she dug her lone sword into the ground, a crutch – weakness – to help her up. Besides herself with fury she made to stand, her sword rising with her, when a sudden sound brought her face up, eyes blazing.

A score of figures faced her, the village militia in purple tunics, with short swords in their hands. As she got up they surged in on her with hostile cries. She made no attempt to conciliate them. Maddened at the loss of opportunity she had to gain the power that rightfully belonged to her, Cinder reverted to baser instincts.

A snarl of bloodthirsty gratification hummed in her throat as she leaped, and the first attacker, his short sword over-reached by the whistling black glass, went down with his brains gushing from his split skull. Wheeling like a cat, Cinder caught a descending wrist on her edge, and the hand gripping the short sword flew into the air scattering a shower of red drops. But Cinder had not paused or hesitated. A cat-like twist and shift of her body avoided the blundering rush of two purple swordsmen, and the blade of one missing its objective, was sheathed in the breast of the other.

A yell of dismay went up at this mistake, and Cinder allowed herself a pleased laugh as she bounded aside from a whistling cut and slashed under the guard of yet another man of the militia. A long spurt of crimson followed her singing edge and the man crumpled screaming, his belly muscles cut through.

The militia howled like vicious Beowolves. Unaccustomed to battle, they were ridiculously slow and clumsy compared to her whose motions were blurs of quickness and efficiency. They floundered and stumbled, hindered by their own numbers; they struck too quick or too soon, and cut only empty air. She was never motionless or in the same place an instant; springing, side-stepping, whirling, twisting, she offered a constantly shifting target for their swords, while her own curved blade sang death about their ears.

But whatever their faults, the men of the village militia did not lack courage, that much she could give to them. They swarmed about her yelling and hacking, and through the arched doorways of the houses around rushed others, having gone to don their uniform and weapons during the clamor.

Cinder, bleeding from the cut on her collarbone, cleared a space for an instant with a devastating sweep of her dripping sword, and cast a quick glance for an avenue of escape. At that instant she saw heading towards her the unconscious and bleeding forms of her aides, their bodies landing in a heap on each sides of her. The men surrounding her parted and a man was seen beside the downed Maiden, his appearance dirtied yet looking no worse for wear. As expected of a man of his caliber.

With a snarl, she realized she was trapped between an elite huntsman and the village borderline fanatic military force. She had been defeated. And all this because of the Fall Maiden who held a yellow thing… she blinked. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be.

As far as she knew there were only eight beings capable of feats of magic; two were immortal, four were all girls and the other two could only transform into birds that bore their names. And only one out of those eight bore the taint of the Grimm.

_Was she never informed of a ninth? _

No. Salem had deemed it fit to tell her everything she needed for the mission. Nothing more. The only reason she wouldn't tell her was either because there was no reason for her to, or more likely, it was related to her past. No personal information about the queen herself, not even her origin, had been divulged.

A thought, a dangerous and possibly crazy thought, came to her mind.

_What if that yellow object was related to Salem?_

And if indeed they were related, in what way were they and how would she be able to use this information to her advantage.

* * *

**Chapter Three – Play Your Role**

* * *

She saw her chance the second Qrow Branwen turned to look at the wheezing Maiden. Cinder's sight and action were simultaneous. A leap carried her untouched through the hemming ring of swords, and she ran away with the pack giving tongue behind her, her aides forgotten in favor of a quick escape. She twisted, her blades flaming like summer lightning, three shots fired, and the group fell apart. The oncoming horde tripped over three writhing forms at their foot; one lay face-down in a sickening welter of blood and brains; another propped himself on his hands, blood spurting blackly from his gorged out throat-veins; the other howled like a dying dog as he clawed at the crimson stump that had once been an arm.

A man stood in her front, his sword poised, the blade sparkling frostily in the silvery light. He thrust downward as Cinder surged upon him. But as the point sang toward her throat, she ducked deeply. The blade slit the skin of her back, and Cinder straightened, driving her saber upward as a man might wield a butcher-knife, with all the power she could muster.

The man wasn't checked by the headlong drive, instead, he was knocked aside, the blade buried to the hilt in his belly. The impact sent Cinder crashing against the wall of a building; the other, the sword torn through his body, fell to the ground, ripped open to the spine from groin to broken breastbone. A ghastly mess of strewn entrails.

Half stunned, Cinder leaned against the wall an instant, glaring at the men that gave chase; then with a defiant shake of her dripping sword, continued on her way.

Coming into the housing section proper, she halted long enough to see that it was empty. Behind her the horde was yelling with such intensified horror and rage that she knew she had killed some notable man there on the road, probably the mayor of the settlement.

She ran at random, without plan. She desperately – to her anger – wished to find another route out of the village as the main one would be surely guided; but hurried as she was by all the militia in the village, she could only run on, trusting – for the first time in a long while – to luck to elude them and escape. Among those dark and dimly lighted buildings, she quickly lost all sense of direction, and it was not strange that she eventually blundered into an opening into which her foes were just pouring.

They yelled vengefully and rushed for her, and with a snarl of disgust she turned and fled the way she had come. At least she thought it was the way she had come. But presently, racing into a particular small house to hide and wait, she was aware of her mistake. She had not glimpsed any person on the streets, not because there were not around, but rather because they were in their homes, away from all the action and so safe. This house had occupants, who rose up with a cry as she charged in.

Cinder saw a man and a woman, loaded with jeweled ornaments but otherwise nude, staring at her with wide eyes. So much she glimpsed as the woman raced to the wall and jerked a silken rope hanging from it. Then the floor dropped from under her, and all her coordination could not save her from the plunge into the black depths that opened beneath her.

She did not fall any great distance, though it was far enough to snap the legs of a lady not as trained as her. And in her condition, that would most assuredly lead to her death.

She hit cat-like on her feet and one hand, instinctively retaining her grasp on her sword hilt. She stood, the meagre aura that had been restored used in softening the fall and enhancing her eyesight enough for her to see a bit of her surroundings. She glanced up. The trap was closed. No sound came from above. They must have thought her a dead woman when she plunged through the floor above or else they would have followed after.

Holding her bloody sword in her right, Cinder started down the corridor. She went slowly, stiffly, only her urge to survive keeping her on her feet. There was a blank glare in her bloodshot eyes, and she involuntarily licked her battered lips from time to time. She knew her injuries were grim, but she bore them stoically, making no sounds of complaint.

She turned into a black arch, a tunnel similar to the one she had just left.

How far she went, she had no idea, before she mounted a long stair and came upon a stone door, fastened with an iron bolt. She threw the bolt and drew the panel inward. The inner side of a cloth tapestry met her gaze and she drew it aside and peeked through. She could only make out a fountain placed in the center of the chamber.

She entered through the stone door, going on tiptoe, expecting a rush of purple figures through the arches at any moment.

Cinder sank down and plunged her face into the crystal jet. When she raised her head, most of the drawn haggard look had gone from her features. With renewed vigor she crossed the chamber to the window on the other side. A cool breeze tossed her tousled locks. Above was the dark velvet sky, clustered with stars. Below her stretched a vague expanse of green.

Evidently some of the buildings were built like towers on the wall. This one was. It seemed for once her luck had led her well.

She ripped up the tapestry, rapidly tying together the long tough strips of silk to make a rope, one end of which she fastened to the leg of the massive ivory table. Then she moved the table, with great effort, to the window to act as a support as she had no weight to place on it.

She would take her chance with the forest. There was an oasis a day's march to the south, and the Kingdom of Vale beyond that. If she reached the oasis she could rest until her wounds healed.

After looping the loose end of her silk rope about her hips, Cinder turned to the window and with contemptuous ease sliced through the soft iron bars that deterred entry from the outside. She lifted herself through the window, making sure to avoid the jagged and pointed remnants of the bars, and lowered herself the thirty odd feet to the earth, sliding down swiftly, hand over hand. She stepped out of the loop, leaving it hanging, an obvious sign of her method of escape. It didn't matter as by the time they would find it; she would be far gone.

Pinching the bridge of her nose to quell the irritation that bubbled, she started into the forest. The loss of her subordinates was a setback, a minor one perhaps, but a setback all in all. To find willing minions this far into the first phase of her plan would be hard. Thankfully, she had a pair of… ah… unwilling minions she could coerce to do her bidding. But to do so at her current level of power would be tantamount to suicide because though she was skilled, the diminutive mute was equally as skilled and she didn't have the power of the Maiden to widen the gap.

She would need an alternate source of power it seemed. Who or what was left up to chance.

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

Jaune knew him being reborn in this world wasn't a mistake. There was a reason for it. A role for him to play. Whatever it may be, saving this world from total destruction or aiding a hero on an impossible quest made possible through ungodly means, he didn't know. What he did know, was that everyone had a role. He prayed Amber's role wasn't to die here. To be used as a MacGuffin.

He was brought out of his thought by the aforementioned girl, who held on to his body with an intensity that would only be subdued by death. She wheezed and coughed, blood splattering from her lips onto his body. But he didn't care. His only wish is to be able to do something, anything, to stop her pain.

The man she arrived with at the bar before the fight, knelt beside her, his brows flurried, his expression worried. They had history together, that much he could ascertain, though the details would have to wait until she was healed enough that he could grill her for info on tall, dark, and broody with no bat fetish. From the way the man's eyes barely moved in his direction, he still thought him a weird yellow thing, maybe some kind of comfort to quell her loneliness. Any other time he would have been happy that Amber hadn't divulged jack about him, now, he felt like slapping the girl silly. It would certainly make the coming introduction go smoother.

Jaune sighed. If they wanted to save Amber and fast, they needed to be acquainted with each other.

How to start...?

"Eh, what's up doc?"

No one has ever accused him of subtlety.

The scream that erupted from the man at any time would have made him giddy with happiness, presently, with a blade poised threatening over his beautifully chiseled features… let's just say he was giddy. Giddy with fear, that is.

* * *

_Amber's not anthropomorphizing, and neither are you. You are neither insane nor stupid. Anthropomorphizing is actually a natural by-product of the tendency that makes humans uniquely smart. But that's beside the point, I am not, as you put it, an unholy offspring of a Tai. I am just Jaune. Jaune Arc._

The man stopped his ramblings, his face betraying his shock and confusion. _You're an Arc? How?_

_My parents are Arcs and per social norms, I am an Arc. Isn't that how things work here? Or are you named as a member of the community or tribe you belong to?_

The silence that ensued was awkward to say the least. Jaune sighed. They were wasting time in their pointless chatter. _Look_, he began, _I have an idea on what I could do to save Amber. But first I need to ask the voice in my head… _He sighed at the incredulous look that was sent his way_. Forget that last part. Gimme a sec._

To his B.S.E. he asked, _is it possible for me to create healing potions or something since I can craft anything in my stomach?_

**Received… fusing the absorbed herbs juices with aura produces recovery medicine. Grinding the blades and fusing them with aura produces a salve that closes wounds.**

He could have wept with joy at this point if he could and not care if it detracted his manliness. Or what little he had left after screaming multiple times in the face of danger. They did say, 'Courage isn't the absence of fear but rather the triumph over it' so maybe in a weird way he was the most courageous person on Remnant.

Back to reality…

_I know it sounds like a weird request but please go gather all the herbs you can find in the village. I can heal Amber; I just need them. Please, trust me… and be fast._

The man, gave him a look as if weighing the pros and cons of doing what the telepathic slime suggested. The labored breathing of the Maiden was enough to overpower his paranoia, and with one last look at Amber then Jaune, he turned on his heels, heading to the cluster of villagers who encircled the horribly mutilated body of their Mayor.

Jaune could only stay in place, waiting, hoping, and praying that the man arrived on time. And with the materials he needed.

. . .

**Analyses complete.**

**Yarrow: A herbal remedy****. The above ground parts are ****used to**** make medicine. ****Yarrow**** is ****used for**** fever, common cold, hay fever, absence of menstruation, dysentery, diarrhea, loss of appetite, gastrointestinal (GI) tract discomfort, and to induce sweating. Some people chew the fresh leaves to relieve toothache.**

**Goldenrod****: ****A herbal remedy****. The above ground parts are ****used to**** make medicine. ****Goldenrod**** is used to reduce pain and swelling (inflammation), as a diuretic to increase urine flow, and to stop muscle spasms. It is also used for gout, joint pain (rheumatism), arthritis, as well as eczema and other skin conditions.**

**Horsetail****: ****A herbal remedy****. The above ground parts are ****used to**** make medicine. ****Horsetail**** is an extremely useful herb in the prevention and treatment of osteoarthritis, osteoporosis and rheumatoid arthritis. It can also help to repair bone fractures, build cartilage for stronger joints, boost calcium absorption by the bones and even strengthen the connection between the jawbone and teeth.**

Fortunately, he was right. He could create what in essence were recovery potions in his body. He began crafting some medicine of his own, the process taking less than a minute to be completed. He created more, remembering the many that was wounded as a result of the small-scale battle.

To the man, who he finally learned was named Qrow, Jaune projected. _We may not trust each other but you can trust me to never willingly hurt Amber. Don't jump into any conclusion by what happens next, please._

Without waiting for a reply, he took action. Consuming the wounded Maiden, he sprayed some potion on her, then hawked her back up gently. He was not surprised to see the flabbergasted look on the Huntsman though the lack of any pointy object thrust in his face surprised him. The healing process took a little time, but it worked, Amber regained consciousness so fast it was like the fight never happened.

He knew what the villagers were thinking.

_Is he a god? Able to resurrect people with his powers?_

Ha! They wished. He was just the only sentient slime in all of Remnant's history. The progenitor of all future slimes. He was an OP slime. The OP…

He was brought out of his boastful monologue by Amber when she lifted him up and brought him to her chest, squashing him against her body in a loving embrace. He once again cursed the fact that he was a slime and not human. And so not capable of groping.

Why couldn't he be reborn as a Teddy bear?

* * *

**OMAKE**

**Presenting a musical worthy of Disney – I Won't Say I Am In-love With Frozen **

(During Cinder's internal monologue from Jaune's POV)

She was staring at him.

Jaune looked both ways to make sure and indeed, her gaze was fixated entirely on his form.

Oh God. The evil, hot, sword-wielding, sexy, murderer was staring at him.

Why?

Was she? No, no, no… it couldn't be, right? She couldn't be a possible love interest – the first one in the hero's journey to fall for him.

_Honey, with the way her sight hasn't wavered from yours, it's no longer possible. It's firmly in the realm of love interest._

But she's a murderer. Evil, and probably insane to boot?

_Aren't those the only type that are likely to fall for you? Do not miss this golden opportunity. You've got to woo her and make her fall for your mascu—eh—slime-line charms._

She tried to kill Amber.

_Who d'you think you're kidding? She's the earth and heaven to you. Try to keep it hidden, honey we can see right through you. Slime, you can't conceal it, we know how you're feeling, who you thinking of._

No chance, no way, I won't say it no-no. It's too cliché, I won't say I'm in love… I thought my heart has learned its lesson. It feels so good when you start out. My head is screaming "Get a grip slime unless you're dying to cry your heart out."

_Slime you can't deny it; who you are is how you're feeling. Baby we're not buying; hon we saw you hit the ceiling. Face it like a grown-up. When you gonna own up that you got, got, got it bad…_

No chance no way I won't say it, no no.

_Give up, give in, check the grin you're in love._

This scene won't play I won't say I'm in love.

_We'll do it until you admit you're in love._

You're way off base I won't say it. Get off my case I won't say it.

_Slime don't be proud it's okay you're in love_

…At least out loud I won't say I'm in love… Okay… this has gone on too long. Who the hell are you? Are you an aspect of my fractured mind given personality?

_Ooh… Ah… ooh_

I can hear you but I won't. Some look for trouble while others don't. There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day, and ignore your whispers which I wish would go away, oh…

_Whoa._

You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear. And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear. Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls. I'm sorry, secret siren, but I'm blocking—

_Jaune, can you do me a fucking favor and stop fucking broadcasting your hideous voice! I know I am dying but there's no need to hasten the process._

Hold up. So, Amber, you were the one calling me hon. Are you… in-love with me?

Shut_ the fuck up Jaune and let me die in piece._

* * *

**If you found the omake confusing. I am sorry, I literally wrote it as it was coming to me. And if it wasn't obvious, I really love Frozen. I know, weird for a guy to love Frozen, but I don't care what you think… Elsa's my waifu!**

**All chapters would be cross-checked after the fifth chapter.**

**Remember to encourage me by reviewing, following and marking my story as your favorite. Until next time. Ciao~**


	5. - All Talk

**Beware. This chapter is full of references. I hope it isn't too much. And...**

**Who has listened to the latest Eminem album, 'Music to be murdered by'. Godzilla feat Juice Wrld is so awesome.**

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

_They are kowtowing to me. Amber, why are they kowtowing to me._

_Maybe they think you are a god or something._ She snorted. _A slime god. That sounds like the name of a bad porno._

He _glared_ at the Fall Maiden, before squeezing his face in realization. He then _gave_ her a sly wink, his tone suggestive. _What's with you and sex, especially when it has to do with me. Is there something you aren't telling me?_

She snorted again. Bracing him to her side, she nudged the top of his body with her knuckles_. Not even in your deepest fantasies, Arc_

_Damn,_ Jaune projected to which she laughed. _You won't even allow me those?_

A random villager walked up to their party, his mouths moving in a vague recognition of speech.

Not understanding a word the old man said, he asked Amber.

_Just introducing himself, nothing to worry about,_ was the quick reply.

The old man continued with Amber becoming more incredulous as seconds passed. His interest was well and truly piqued at this point. So was his annoyance at his inability at joining the conversation. While telepathy was cool and all, he figured it was time to learn how to communicate via spoken words and phrases.

It was possible to master verbal communication through mental telepathy, as he learned through the various shows he'd watched, by watching and imitating the sounds heard around like a baby does. But unlike them, he didn't have the time nor naturally know where and how to start. The best way he could go about this was to **mimic **a vocal learner.

Humans were out for obvious reasons. Dolphins, whales, sea-lions, seals and elephants were out too because of their habitats. Locating them would take precious time. This left birds and bats.

Jaune looked to the sky, spotting birds of different species thanks to his enhanced sights, but not the variety he needed.

_Amber, _he called out mentally.

_I'm quite busy, Jaune. In the middle of dissuading this foolish man from doing something so utterly foolish._

_Won't that be impossible since foolish people do foolish things. It's like a law. _

Her sighed was exasperated. _Not in the mood. Why won't this man take no for an answer? And what the—I ain't nobody's mouthpiece!_

_Maybe this is a bad time. _

_You think. _She furiously shot then sighed again, sounding as if she aged a hundred in the span of a few minutes. _So sorry for that. What do you want Jaune?_

_Do you know the birds that are indigenous to this area?_

Amber's confusion was evident but she still answered, thankfully. _Mostly mockingbirds, warblers and songbirds, though a few orioles, hummingbirds and finches can be found if you look well. Do I even want to know why you are asking?_

_Can I ask you for a favor?_

_Anything – apart from those you perverted slime! _

_You said anything! _He grumbled before perking back up. _Please kill a hummingbird for me_.

* * *

**Chapter Four – All Talk**

* * *

_He couldn't have found an easier task for me to fulfill,_ Amber thought to herself from her hiding-place behind some bushes. _It had to be one of, if not, the fastest bird known_. _Also one of the smallest if I'm not mistaken._

The hummingbird's a blur of motion as it moved in exceedingly rapid, darting flight before flowers looking for nectar and insects. It was a small green bird, its neck and throat covered with iridescent reddish-pink feathers. Judging from the size and appearance it was male, making it slightly better on her conscience for what she was about to do next.

She wasn't sexist but no one can fault her for being grateful it wasn't a member of her gender she was about to kill. The exception, of course, being that dark-haired, auburn eyed, sword-wielding bitch.

It would be tough to take the bird down when it wasn't in its torpor state of diminished energy, but thankfully, she had her Maiden powers to aid her. It wouldn't make killing it automatically easy as the bird was not known for staying in a place for long, rather, it would even the odds as her manipulation over the elements could be used to pin it.

Though to be fair, a bow and arrow would even the odds a lot more, and prevent the loss of natural resources. Luckily, she had both.

Amber whipped an arrow from the quiver gifted to her from one of the village's hunters, and nocked it to the bow, likewise gifted. Silent, and mindful of the sticks that littered the ground, she headed downhill, the arrow ready to be released at the earliest chance.

She crept between trees. Black oaks and silvery breeches, glittering with early morning dew. Here and there she saw the crimson blaze of holly berries; the deep green of a wakeful spruce standing guard over its slumbering sisters. Most of the forest was hushed, as if just awakening from their slumber.

Her ears twitched, and she was instantly alert. Something or someone moved behind her, hidden amidst the vegetation. She had heard the crunch of the dead leaves and sticks and the labored breathing. At that moment, before she could turn to investigate, she saw something flit by her peripheral. The hummingbird.

She forgot about the person behind her, as they had not made an attempt on her life. Gripping the bow, she fixed her gaze on her prey and waited.

A gust of wind stirred the beeches around her, the leaves rustling like dry, dead handle. Overhead a branch shifted, and a fluid dropped down on her hair. Amber's heart jerked at the surprised contact and she released. The arrow sped past the target, its wings spread out as it flew away in panic. She cursed at her rookie mistake, racing off in pursuit. Her eyes on the bird, she bounded through the trees, following as fast as she could. The crunch of her boots and the rasp of her breath echoing through the forest.

She was getting quite far north, away from the village which lay to the southwest. But she didn't stop. Jaune had saved her life, getting him a bird – for whatever purpose he needed it – was not enough to repay the debt, but it was a start.

Rolling under a fallen log, she fitted an arrow on the bow and released. The arrow punched through the hummingbird's left wing with so much strength that it sent the bird careening around and down. With an aura-enhanced leap, Amber soared through the air, catching and clutching the bleeding bird to her chest.

She sighed. The least she could do at this point was to give it a quick death.

She grasped its body firmly in one hand, stopping it from flapping its one good wing. Taking its head between her thumb and the first two fingers of her other hand – making sure to avoid the beak – she rotated until its neck dislocated. Death was instant.

She was really glad the bird was male.

* * *

The B.E.S. voice rang in his mind.

**Analysis complete.**

**Mimic: Hummingbird ability obtained. **

**Hummingbird intrinsic skills "High Speed," "Torpor," and "Vocal Learning" acquired.**

Jaune internally cheered as he transformed into the absorbed bird to the shock of everyone bar Amber. He was one step closer to finally learning how to communicate.

He changed back, already thinking on how the **Vocal Learning** skill would help him. He could link it to his telepathy, then modify it in such a way that anything he heard mentally could be converted and brought out physically. Or verbally as the case may be. Grinning internally, he believed he could safely say, with no fear of being ironically corrected, that nothing could ruin the golden moment.

A loud _swoosh_ was all the warning anyone got before a bird swooped in and capture him with its talons.

_Huh! What the Hezbollah?_

He looked down and wished he hadn't. He looked up, and wished he could muster up the strength to be shocked. He had tempted fate with his stupid inner thoughts and had gotten his just deserve. But, though he may not be surprised he had been interrupted by the universe, he was angry at his powerlessness.

To the falcon that held him, he projected, angrily and quite uncharacteristically too. _Let me go, you flying jackal. Release me at once._

His astonishment at the bird actually understanding what he said turned to horror, as his body, with nothing holding onto him, began to free-fall.

_Clutch me again! I was kidding! I was kidding! _He hurriedly projected, only to stop as the bird flew off. It was too late.

His trip down was, fortunately, cut short as he landed on an aircraft with a _squelch_. He rolled to a stop against the tail.

_Well, that used to hurt. _With a glance at his surroundings, he realized he was in a much bigger problem than his pain tolerance. _Wait. Where is this aluminum devil taking me?_

. . .

In a twist of fate, it seemed he would be arriving in Beacon Academy earlier than the estimated time of arrival. Six hours early to be precise. He could hear the chatter from the passengers below him, 'Beacon Academy' and 'Huntsman or Huntsmen-in-training' been the most used phrase among them.

They were slated to travel to the Kingdom of Vale before he had asked Amber for the favor. Qrow had informed them of an aircraft – Bullhead, he called it – headed for their destination. According to the middle-aged Huntsman, his boss – not the title that was given but it was pretty obvious – wanted to meet the man – er, slime – that was an ambling impossibility.

They agreed, though to be fair, it wasn't like they could refuse. From what Amber had told him, Qrow's boss, a man that goes by the name Ozpin, was a powerful man. Whether that meant politically or otherwise, he didn't know. And to get on his bad side was like Jar Jar Binks flipping the bird at Darth Varder. The repercussions would be… awful.

Not wanting to continue eavesdropping on the inane conversations, he decided to pose a question to his personal google.

_Hey, B.E.S. can you link "Vocal Learning" to "Telepathy". _

**Confirmed. Linking acquired skill "Vocal Learning" to "Telepathy" … successful.**

Yes!

The only thing left to do was to test it out.

…The end result after what felt like years to the anthropomorphic slime:

"Shamone!"

Thank the Force. Finally, he could speak like the rest of the population.

Now devoid of anything to do save eavesdropping, Jaune moved around the top of the craft wishing he could see through its body. With a resigned sigh after trying and failing to spontaneously gain X-ray vision, he stayed in place, watching the scenery pass by. He watched as the green of the forest gave way to the paved and neat road of the school zone.

If he had a mouth, it would have been agape.

If schools like this existed on Earth, he was pretty sure the level of illiteracy would have been lower than it is. This is what a conducive leaning environment is meant to look like, not the garbage they refer to as institutes of learning back on his former planet. He wondered what the inside would look like. Would it better than the outside?

Jaune was brought out from his thoughts as the Bullhead landed on a designated pad and students strolled from it, their expressions one of awe and wonder. Guess the facility wasn't a normal sight for them either.

Transforming back into the bird, he took off, the speed at which he moved taking him off guard for a second or two.

There's a saying, "Anything could happen in a second". Somehow, in that precious second, or two, he managed to derail directly in front of a diminutive silver-eyed girl just as she was about to sneeze.

The explosion that occurred, with him at the epicenter, was worthy of a Michael Bay movie.

"Unbelievable!" The screech that made its way to his ears reminded him of a banshee's. He was pretty sure the person didn't have Eminem-lungs (that dude is a rap-bot that could rap continuously without breathing). Through the rapidly disappearing smoke he could see he was between two girls. Because his sight was hazy, he mistook them for an Angel and Devil. Though for some reason, the Angel was shouting at the Devil. Aren't Angels beings of tranquility? "This is exactly what I was talking about!"

In the back of mind (the perverse part), he realized that this is how a threesome start in some porn videos. With the girls fighting over the guy before coming to an awesome conclusion. Made more awesome if they were twins.

They looked down as he wheezed, their faces shocked as they took in his downed form.

"Oh no!" the red Devil, who's expression was an antithesis to her name and nature, exclaimed, hands coming up to her mouth and eyes brimming with tears.

Did they think he was dead?

The distraught look on the white Angel confirmed that yes, they thought him dead.

"I killed a bird." The Devil continued, her voice laced with sadness at an action that many ten year olds would do without flinching and laugh about it.

Maybe he should move.

Jaune fluttered his wings to shake off the soot, before hopping onto his little legs. Having removed a fair amount, he flew up, taking nest on the Angel's hair much to her annoyance.

"I didn't kill a bird." The Devil chirruped happily, clapping her hands together and beaming at the Angel, who scoffed in response. She lifted him off her head and brought him to her eye-level.

"He does seem oddly okay for a bird that was caught in an explosion." She remarked, her eyes wary as she observed his body.

"Of course, Angel. I am one of a kind."

The scream and subsequent black out was definitely not warranted. Who knew Angels were this violent?

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

He awoke groggy and disoriented, staring blearily at the visages of two teens. The red Devil from before and an… endowed blonde.

This must be his second Heaven. Or Hell since the Devil was present.

"You mean to tell me that this little guy not only survived a dust explosion, but a throw from a scared Schnee." The E.D. paused for a second, before rearing her head back and releasing a short laugh. "Do you think you can fool your big sister, eh? Come here you…" She made for the Devil who struggled futilely to escape her grasp. If it wasn't for the fact that he was in Hell, he would have gushed – in a manly way of course – at the cuteness of the scene.

He stood, staggering a bit as he oriented himself. The sisters – not that he knew (he suspected them to be a couple created to hammer in the fact he died a virgin) – turned to him, two pair of eyes taking in his tiny form.

He knew, from previous experiences, not to immediately talk because apparently Huntsmen or trainees were trigger-happy, so he set about looking for another means of communication. Preferably, writing materials. It would help in easing in his ability to understand and speak like them.

He flitted about, as silent as the graveyard his human body rested in, looking for any sign of a pen and paper.

"What's it doing?" The Devil asked, her hand scratching her head in a show of confusion. The blonde shrugged, both contented in just watching his actions.

Tired of searching and just about ready to introduce himself – damn the consequences – he saw the objects he sought hanging out of a bag. With the book in his beak and the pencil clutched tightly to his body by his wings, he made it back to the two girls.

He laid the book open in front of them and grabbing the pen with his beak and using his wings to hold it steady, he began writing.

He didn't need to see them to know they were bewildered. Anyone watching, which was pretty much everyone at this point, was.

He wrote:

I am a bird.

Silence greeted his statement.

Despite the lack of expected reply, he continued:

That can talk.

"W-w-h-h-a-a-a-t-t-t-t!"

Pandemonium broke.

. . .

It took a while before the students calmed (one student going as far as making a cross with his fingers), though only the presence of a whip-wielding professor ensured silence.

No, really. She held an honest-to-God whip.

Why does everyone in this world look like they belong in a porn mag?

He shelved that thought for later consideration as the professor had demanded the reason for the uproar. The way all hands turned to him would have been funny, if he was capable of laughing without sounding like a psycho-bird. But as the woman looked at him, temple furrowed, he knew he was in trouble unless he talked his way out. So he did the only thing he could.

Chest puffed out, and brows narrowed in seriousness, he said.

"Take me to your leader."

A pity he sounded like he was high off Helium.

. . .

Held in the arms of the professor, who introduced herself as Mrs. Goodwitch, the Deputy Headmistress, they exited the elevator and into the office of the Headmaster.

"Amber!" He exclaimed, taking off from the professor and onto the awaiting palm of said girl. "The horror. I thought I was in a specially designed Hell for celibate teens. They were so beautiful and out of reach!" He sobbed unashamedly as she cooed at him.

"Sorry, Jaune. And you can finally talk?"

"Yeah. Learnt it on the Bullhead here. Literally." he chuckled at the inside joke.

"Ok. It's really creepy seeing you talk as a bird. Turn back." She softly ordered, the other occupants in the room momentarily forgotten.

In a puff, he transformed back to his actual self.

"So, how should we celebrate my achievement? A date? Or maybe we could skip that and just let me get into—"

He was interrupted by a short but sharp cough. Both Fall Maiden and slime turned to see three pairs of eyes fixated on them, annoyance quite obvious.

"Oh," Amber muttered, embarrassed. "Sorry 'bout that. It's just that Jaune finally learnt how to talk and…" she trailed off, giving Jaune a 'help me' look. Not one to stand by the side and watch a – literal – maiden fumble in her shame, he took the metaphoric reins in the conversation.

First impression matters, they say. It wouldn't do for them to mistake him for a perverse slime or something ludicrous like that. And, because he had to start the conversation from a position of strength despite his lack of strength (or so anime says and they haven't steered him wrong), he **jumped **from Amber's hold and onto the table, directly in front of Ozpin. Who looked nothing like he expected.

A bearded, wizened, old man with twinkling, blue eyes hidden behind half-moon glasses came to mind.

"I don't know the specifics of your ozluminati," he began while ignoring Amber's frantic 'stop' gestures. "But seeing as Fate brought me to you in a series of cliché convoluted events, whatever bad guy you want me to slain, I will."

* * *

Fun fact – The Anna's hummingbird is regarded as the** fastest bird** relative to its size. It can reach speeds of 50mph, or nearly 385 body lengths per second. The Peregrine Falcon, on the other hand, is the**world's fastest** **animal**. It can reach speeds of more than 240 mph during dives.

* * *

**Omake**

He knew she was serious. Why wouldn't she be when this was a matter of the heart.

"Just think deeply on what I said." She began. "If we decide to date, how would it work? How would we hold hands, hug, kiss or have sex? Maybe not in that exact order, but my point still stands. Do you expect me to conveniently forget the fact that you are bodiless? I am not dissuading you from your endeavor, however fruitless it is, I just want you to know. I want you to know that the most you can be is…

"Don't say what I think you're about to say. Please!"

"…my friend."

His body shook from the metaphoric impact. There was nothing worse than being Friend-zoned…

"Jaune, you are my best friend."

Unless, of course, you are the dreaded best friend. Once you are stuck there, that's the end.

* * *

**Had to stop here. Sorry, just a little emotional that Eminem dedicated his album to Juice Wrld. **

**Until next update. Which will feature a larger chapter. Promise. And don't forget to drop a review (your thoughts on my writing). Also, follow and favorite the story, along with my other stories. This motivates me to write. Later. **

* * *

**Next chapter (Sneak-peek)**

"Why did you say no when you already promised to kill the bad guy?"

Jaune stoped and stared at the Fall Maiden as if she was stupid.

"Amber, I heard the words, 'Immortal', 'Witch', and 'Salem' and knew I stood no chance whatever. The rest of my miserable existence is better spent bemoaning the loss of my dick."


	6. - No More

**Okay. Have you read my latest story, The Illusion among the Crows. If you haven't, what are you waiting for? Read it after you r done with this one.**

**And yeah, for those that thought that only Jaune would gain powers from the actual anime… you are wrong.**

**And you know, in no way related to the above msg, Cinder's like really hard to write. Many people can write her well but… I don't think I can. I doubt she's in character. Oh well, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**Warning: A dialogue or two involving Leon and his summoned fire titan, Ifrit, were extracted from the light novel. I couldn't find a better way to phrase my conversation so I just went with the novel's approach.**

* * *

It was a never-ending journey.

The scent of blood hung thick in the cold night air. Cinder's feet sank into the mud as she descended down a steep hill. Raindrops the size of coins pounded the path, turning the dirt into mud. Water dripped from her disheveled and blood-caked hair, and her clothing – what little remained of it — clung to her body like an icy, damp skin.

Her scratched hands grabbed at the saplings. She wobbled a bit as her boot slipped in the mud, but thankfully didn't fall. She knew if she fell, it may very well take a miracle for her to stand. As she stood in place, she shielded her eyes, and glanced into the sky. The storm clouds moved quickly, but there was no thunder. Nightfall was coming. The rain that hit her face felt like tiny slaps.

The only thing it did, apart from drenching her, was washing away the blood and mud on her.

Seeing a break in the trees where the steep decline of the wilderness hit the bottom below, Cinder picked up her pace, the thoughts of clean water giving her strength. She staggered from side to side of the path, avoiding the funnel of water that bored out channels of water in the dirt. Eyeing a clear patch of land at the bottom, she forged ahead. In the heavy rain, due to no fault of hers, she misjudged the distance.

Instinctively, her fingers managed to snag the end of a branch, stopping her advance. She stood on a crag, where the rushing rainwaters flowed by her feet like a waterfall. The water cascaded downward twenty feet, splashing hard into a muddy pond below. Cinder let go of the branch, balancing herself with her hands on the ledge. She studied the pond. The rain was heavy, but she swore something swam within. Suddenly, a surge of water swelled up over her ankles. She slipped, her momentum carrying her over the dangerous ledge toward the ominous puddle of mud below.

She splashed hard into the murky mud. Fully submerged, Cinder popped out of the water and wiped the foul liquid from her eyes. The rain-made pond was bigger than she first thought too. Possibly deeper as well.

Without warning, something coiled itself all around her body. Her hands and arms swung back and forth through the pond in a frenzied motion. She pushed her feet out of the muddy bottom that clung between her toes. She stayed underneath for a minute, slowly moving, one direction or another, not feeling any sign of release. Instead, the animal she was quickly coming to realize was a snake, coiled tighter. She popped out of the water with a gasp.

She was right, though she would have preferred if she was wrong. The thing wrapped around her was a dark green-brown snake with diamond patterns. It's eyes was as white as lightning and it was as thick as a man's arm and every bit of thirty feet long.

She was submerged again, too weak to resist and aura too low to call upon. Panic burnt something ugly within her, and the shame she felt at her state choked her. If she had the…

Part of the snake curled around her neck, and she gasped in fright. She fished inside the water, groping for either its head or tail. She couldn't grab a definite hold of it, its body too slimy. The water certainly didn't help matters.

The snake's head appeared over the top of her's. It wound back, opening its mouth, revealing sharp fangs longer than her fingers. A black tongue flicked out.

She fought with all she had, a last desperate gamble of survival. But it was all for naught; the snake was nothing but pure muscle underneath its sleek-feeling scales. She realized, as her struggles seized against the overwhelming force of the reptile's vice-like grip, her encroaching demise.

In the end, the weak perished. And that's what she was… weak.

Someone screamed. The accumulation of all past events finally being comprehended. The shock of it all breaking the once powerful woman.

Lightning fast, the snake struck.

* * *

**Chapter Six – No More**

* * *

"**You want to live? If you want to live, heed my voice!"**

Did she want to live, only to be killed later on by her master when she's found out to have failed on her mission?

Did she want to live in weakness, forever knowing that her rightful power had escaped her grasp?

To live… broken. A shell of her former self… powerless… a liability.

Still…

A memory flitted by her mind. Of a voice that had called out right before the swirling vortex of air slammed into her.

"_Sky Dragon's Roar!" _The voice had screamed.

To live would be to have a chance at revenge. Revenge at that being who had struck her at her climax. Her answer was obvious—

_I want to live!_

**Confirmed. Responding to summoner's request… Successful.**

But she was powerless against the force of nature that protected her unknown foe. Her semblance, while powerful in its own right especially when used in tandem with the dust sewn in her dress, could not compete with the mastery over fire the Fall Maiden had.

What she wouldn't do to wield the element she felt most comfortable with.

_**Confirmed. Extra skills "Cancel Flame Attack" and "Control Flame"… successfully acquired.**_

It just wasn't possible, she knew. Formulating a new plan would take resources and time she didn't have. And it wasn't like she possessed the anonymity she once had.

Her quest to no longer be the same girl that had watched her parents die would fail even before it had started.

This wasn't what she expected.

. . .

Cinder awoke on the ground of an enormous, empty space. The shadows crouched in the corners watched her. Light — its source unknown — filtered in from jagged, broken windows along the outside of the structure, casting an unearthly glow. Her breath rang through her ears, unnaturally loud, interrupting the stillness of a tomb.

She stood. Goosebumps spread across her arms as she moved, a feeling of disquiet smearing over her skin like lotion. Her foot went lopsided on a discarded board, popping it out under her sole, skittering across the floor in a dull collection of tinkles.

Filling her lungs with the cold, dank air and holding it, she inched closer to the wall of the dilapidated building. Large beam crossed above her and touched down periodically, keeping the sagging ceiling in place far above. A ring of black along the side wall advertised an old fire-pit for someone down on their luck. She kept her eyes pointed to the ground, wary of needles and other items lazily discarded.

As she got halfway through the open space, a vulgar feeling began to crawl up her skin like tiny insects. The sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh tickled her nose.

Shapes took form within the shadows toward the wall the closer she got. On the right, near the corner of the building, lay a pile of grayish sticks, charred and blackened by fire. Scorched fabric was glued to the various elements of the pile.

Three more steps had her halting, letting loose a small gasp.

It was a body. And they weren't sticks, rather, they were bones coated in masticated skin.

A face, twisted in an endless scream of agony, lay on the backside of his calves. One arm had been ripped out of the socket and lay flat under his back. One leg, cracked at the thigh, lay over the other. He was broken and twisted, as if he'd been made of matchsticks and sporadically snapped and tossed to the ground.

No human could have done this.

A few more steps and she could see another fire site, only this time, there was a large black pot overturned against the wall. A round camping stove, smudged with soot, half lay under it.

Suddenly, a circular fire lit up, climbing into the sky. Sparkles danced and played in a shimmering orange halo lazily drifting toward the right. Toward the body.

She could not help the squeak. Or holding her breath afterwards.

Still it drifted. Reaching for that death.

What it would do when it got there, she didn't want to know.

The whole scene was unnatural. An that was saying something, she did call a Grimm-human immortal, master.

A blast of rotten stench crawled up her nose, prompting a gag. The smell didn't come from the body; it came from the disgusting magic corroding this area. She may not possess the mystic energy, but being around someone as attuned to the arcane as Salem has left her able to sense it.

Which led to her confusion on the matter of the golden object the Fall Maiden held. It'd reeked of magic. She had deemed it not worth her time during the altercation, her attention solely focused on the power the Maiden held.

Maybe it would be worth looking into when she gets back. Assuming she did, and was not trapped in whatever hell she was in.

Cinder analyzed the lacy structure of an incantation. It hovered within a shaky line spilled on the floor. _Spilled _because it looked suspiciously like blood, sticky and slick, gleaming in the soft light from the window.

The lacy spell cleared away like most at her attention. In its place grinned the head of a black monster, staring at her like a Grimm would a random human.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her.

"…Another failure," sharp, ragged teeth filled a mouth too big for its face.

Terror jolted her back as a stringy leg stepped forward.

She forced herself to stand tall despite the overwhelming urge to either keel over or run away. Her master, she reminded herself, was more powerful than this being.

She hoped.

_Reduced to hoping_, she chuckled self-depreciatingly. _Oh how the mighty has indeed fallen._

Its face straightened out, staring at her out of black pits instead of eyes. In a raspy voice that shivered across her body, it said, "I had thought you were merely garbage. But maybe you are suited for flame after all."

A snap of its fingers and another being appeared. A creature born of magma and lava. It was an easy summoning, no sigil or rune of any kind.

If that wasn't a clear indication of its powers…

"I'm giving you a body. Use it well."

A casual order. An evidence that proved she was considered less than human. To the being, she was nothing. The frustration and anger she felt at her situation evolved into hatred at all those that thought her powerless.

No more.

"**You want to live? If you want to live, show me your will!"**

The summoned creature followed its orders; attempting to merge with her soul. She immediately felt her limbs grow numb, her body being slowly snatched from her. Just like the being ordered, the creature was attempting to commandeer her body for its own use.

**Confirming. Do you wish to be possessed by Ifrit, the Fire Titan, in order to live?**

**Yes**

**No**

She didn't want to die. And if she had to be possessed to accomplish her goals, so be it. But she will be damned before she let anyone take control of her own form.

**Confirmed. Possession by Ifrit… successful. Ifrit's possession is stabilizing *error*error* soul… successful. Furthermore, unique skill "Deviant"… successfully acquired. Deviant successfully linked to semblance, Scorching Caress. **

No more would she be defeated. When next they meet… They would all _burn_.

* * *

**Omake**

**[An alternate death]**

For a long time, she'd wondered how her death would play out.

Don't be surprised. She'd a long time to think on her death during her situation-imposed pilgrimage.

Not only would her report on the loss of the power of the Maiden to her master label her a liability, it will also hinder the continuation of her plan. And the success of her plan rested on her stealing the magic that resided in the body of the Fall Maiden. A plan that was sadly foiled at its earliest phase.

Back to the topic of her death. Correction: her impending death. Because she knew that unless a miracle happened — the chances of that happening to her was extremely slim — the fangs will undoubtedly sink into her neck and kill her.

The meager aura she had managed to gain in the course of her walk wouldn't stand a chance against the piercing force of those appendages.

It was a pity she did not possess the power she craved. Maybe—No! She wouldn't allow her last moments to be filled with regrets. Though she knew that was a fruitless endeavor. She was a living — soon to be dead — epitome of regret.

She couldn't help the annoyance that grew in her. Why her death was taking this long to occur she didn't know. It's not like she wasn't happy about that fact, it was more like it was merely preventing the inevitable.

And that itself was her source of annoyance.

Cinder stared at the bared fangs that inched slowly to her. She felt that this situation was a misinterpretation of a universal law or something. She was regarded as the villain in the altercation and so, she would have thought her death to occur fast. She was not the hero in an anime that her death will be played in slow motion to allow her ample time to escape.

Yet, the snake had still not reached her. And they were literally tied together.

If the universe deemed her important enough to live, then what was she to do apart from dancing to their tunes. It's not like she didn't have experience in doing just that.

The amount of aura she had may not be enough to defend against the snake, but it will be enough for her to make use of her semblance.

Once.

Just like in any shitty anime. A notion she was really starting to believe she was in.

Her semblance bloomed to life, and the mass of scales encircling her caught on fire.

It may seem like an easy task to escape the grip of the reptile now, but then, without the aid of whatever higher being that's manipulating the event, her life would have ended faster than a hamburger in front of an obese man.

No offense to anyone that actually matters. Which, to be perfectly honest, is no one.

Her semblance made short work of her biological bind, but fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how one cum who looked at it, she failed to account for the fang still poised for her.

Her death was indeed swift.

But no less painful.

* * *

**The "*error*error*" is a play-on no one actually knowing Cinder's true name. And yeah, I know it's short but that's because I needed to get this out of the way. But next chapter would be longer than this. I hope. Oh yeah, before I forget to mention it. Follow my account ghostwriterdt for news updates and written excerpts before update. It's a new account created to promote my stories on this platform and Webnovel. So patronize me. **

**I hope you find humor in my omake.**

**And remember to review your thoughts, favorite and follow this story. Please I want to reach 500 followers. **

**Until next update, which will be longer. Later y'all.**


	7. - Girl With Blonde Hair

**I have so many ideas for this fic. If you think this will feature your normal RWBY lore, you are sadly mistaken. They did say, "all myths have a pinch of truth in it." *evil laugh***

**Made an error, sorry.**

* * *

A faint sound — perhaps a whimper — echoed faintly in the background of Jeanne's mind. Seconds, or maybe hours later, the sounds returned, raining annoyingly through her head. She was desperate for it to go away. It took a few moments for her to realize the annoying sound came from her mouth. Something wasn't quite right, but she was too unfocused to figure it out.

She wondered where she was while mentally questioning what happened to her; but she was groggy and confused. She felt dominated, trapped by the total darkness surrounding her mind. She couldn't move, tendered motionless from her semi-conscious state on the hard, unfamiliar surface. It was as if her brain couldn't process what she was laying on, making her question her location, and how she even got there — wherever there was. Though she couldn't seem to remember anything, deep down she knew she was there by choice. Confusing, it was.

The urgent need to know where she was, was overpowering as her brain finally registered the necessity of opening her eyes. If she could see her surroundings, then perhaps she would be able to recognize where she was. Taking a deep breath, she used what little strength she had to force them open. They barely budged. Defeat washed through her as she realized her eyelids were heavy, the simple task of opening them impossible.

_What's wrong with me? Why can't I move?_

Part of the problem was her head… her head was pounding so bad it ached. It felt as if someone was taking a drumstick and beating on top rhythmically. _Boom… Boom… Boom…_ If she brought her hands to her forehead, she could apply enough pressure that may disperse the pain. She tried raising them, but her arms didn't cooperate. She could barely lift them off the ground. _Where did all my energy go?_

Jeanne wasn't sure what to do next because the pain wasn't leaving. She inhaled a deep breath and held it while reopening her eyes. A sharp pain darted straight across her head, landing right between them. It took all her strength to not wince while closing them tight in hopes of helping, having little success.

Deflated, she lay perfectly still for a few more minutes, taking slow, even breaths. She realized she had two options: either continue to lay here without moving, or try to figure out what happened to her. After a few seconds of debate, she opted for the latter.

With yet another deep breath, she forced her eyelids open as far as she could manage, trying her hardest to ignore the agony, but everything was dark and blurry. Deep in her chest, a burning sensation emerged, as if any minute the suppressed panic that had been simmering was going to burst out. She squeezed her eyes shut again, for the pain had become unbearable. Another soft whimper escaped.

Maybe it was in her best interest to lay still. Focus on something other than torment. Breathing… she needed better control of her breathing, for it had accelerated to the dangerous level of hyperventilating. She kept telling herself to calm down and get a grip. Focus on taking slow, deep breaths. It was hard, the air coming out in quick succession. She forced herself to pace her breaths anyway while the question of her location lingered in her mind.

Jeanne's sense of hearing wasn't helping her figure anything out as she slowly began to realize how quiet the place was. As she strained to recognize any noise that would hint at her location, she realized the only audible sounds were coming from her. She needed to remember what her last steps were. In an instant her heart began to slow as pieces of the past flashed through her mind. Initiation. She remembered she had lagged behind due to her ill health while her friends, after some gentle persuasions that she would be there before it started, headed for the cafeteria to grab a quick breakfast before going to the cliffs. She had thought it to be a simple headache and had been on her way to the sickbay for an aspirin, when the attack — what she called the onset of her semblance: clairvoyance — occurred. She had forgotten that whenever she became ill out of the blue, it was really because—

A gasp escaped her lips as flashes came flooding through, washing over her like a tidal wave. They poured over and through her, driving her own existence and identity before them. The room, wherever she was, melted and reformed.

_I lay face down on the ground, blood pooling from a wound, strangely content despite the lingering regret._

The scene shifted dizzyingly.

_I floated in a void, energies unknown flowing through me at an astonishing rate, transmogrifying my soul into a blob-like shape. An outer covering began to form, the color not unlike my hair._

Shift.

_I, now a blob — no, slime — zipped through the forest, a nevermore hot on my proverbial heel. I flew in an arc until, reaching my maximum height, descended, crashing through many branches. I hit the ground with a squelch, thankfully unharmed._

Shift.

_I was cradled in the arms of a woman, her expression confused as she stared at him._

Shift.

_That same woman — Amber — with me held to her body, rode a white horse through a settlement, my wonder at the market and the amount of people clustered there evident by my restless movement._

Shift.

_A torrent of air was expelled from me with great force at a beautiful black-haired — Cinder —carrying her far away from the downed and bleeding form of Amber._

Shift.

_I was on the table in a room, gazing confidently at the Headmaster, his Deputy and a bedraggled man while Amber watched nonplussed._

Shift.

_I lay faced down on the ground, blood pooling from a wound, oddly content because I knew my sacrifice wasn't in vain._

A tingling sensation jolted through her, causing her to shiver at the realization of what the vision meant. It snapped her back into the present, there and now… wherever there was. She wanted to cry, but that wasn't going to help her. She told herself to be strong and focus on the present, to find a way out of there. _Head for initiation_. She kept repeating that to herself, like a self-help pep talk, but what she needed to do first was move.

With her eyes fluttering, and body shaking, her brain registered that she was cold. No, that was wrong. What was below her was cool. As she placed her hands against the floor, an understanding crossed her mind… she was lying on a tiled floor. Why didn't she figure that out before? With her cheek flat against the ground, she seem to be getting colder with each passing minute, now that she was aware of it.

Don't I have my hoodie on?

Jeanne needed to get up; it was the only way to get better. She tried lifting her head, but it was so heavy. All she could manage was to raise it a few inches off the ground. She swore an anvil was sitting on top of her shoulders, where her head should be. Giving up, she lowered it back down, and tried reopening her eyes instead. The pain was persistent, refusing to go away, but she desperately tried to ignore it. The only thing visual was blackness, but despite the pain they somehow managed to remain open.

Things slowly began to come into focus. She sighed, it was a miracle she could finally see. This was the worst experience she have had with her semblance. And the longest. Her eyes closed for a second to recollect her thoughts. Upon reopening them, they shifted toward her left, noticing a faint light coming in from a small window. Against the artificial light in the hallway, it was barely visible. What was the time? Brothers, how long have she been down on the floor? Has she missed the initiation? As she continued to stare at the window, a sensation of hope swept through her. Maybe, just maybe, she had not missed it. There was still a chance that she had not missed it. Maybe her clairvoyance was wrong and she won't miss the opportunity to truly showcase the skills she has cultivated, ever since that day her parents had told her their profession and what it entailed.

With all her strength, she endured the throbbing pain and somehow managed to sit. The dizziness hit as the room started swirling, forcing her to stay still. The spinning made her queasy, as if she could throw up. She made herself take slow, deep breaths in and out, in hope to ward off the nausea. The slow breaths calmed her stomach. At least the pounding in her head had started to diminish.

As her body became adjusted to being upright, she glanced back toward the window. Inhaling deeply, she began to stand. Her legs shook badly, making every move more difficult. She kept her focus on the window, ignoring the tingling sensations that shot up her legs. She had to see out of that window. Maybe it overlooked the cliffs. She could check whether her fellow enlisters had begun whatever task they were given.

Jeanne somehow managed to wobble over toward the filtered light. The lack of strength in her legs was making her move slowly, but at least she was moving. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was just about there. Only having a couple of more steps to go, she stumbled over her shoes in her haste. Deceptively strong arms clamped under her armpits, stopping her fall. Her breath caught as her pulse quickened from the appearance of the same woman from her vision. Amber.

Unable to breathe, her heart continued to race, leaving her paralyzed. As a blonde object — slime — came into focus, her eyes grew wider from the shock of recognition. The same slime that had appeared alongside Amber; the main focus of her semblance-induced trance. Questions quickly began swirling through her mind, like why would he be here? What was going on? The event she had envisioned, was it going to play out soon? Still breathless, Jeanne continued leaning on Amber, paralyzed by the feelings overpowering her body as she was carefully made to stand on her own. His blue eyes penetrated through her as Amber's arms stretched out to her. Why couldn't she move? Just as Amber was about to wrap her fingers around Jeanne's arms, her knees buckled and her nausea rose, her mouth open as she spewed what little was in her gut onto the floor between them.

* * *

**Chapter Seven - Girl With The Blonde Hair**

* * *

Amber took a smooth half-step back to avoid the splatter, more of which ended up on Jeanne than her.

Her head pounded as she shakily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Brothers, she had never hated her semblance as much as she did at the moment. Misery coiled in her empty stomach as if taunting her that it was there instead of food. She swayed and rubbed at her temples, trying not to whimper as the two stared at her. She'd never had a migraine before, but she could only imagine that this was what one was like.

Amber took a hold of her arm in a careful grip, steadying her. "I am Amber,"

"I'm Jeanne Arc," she managed.

"Oh…" Amber paused to swallow. "fair greetings, Jeanne," she continued after a while, gently moving her. "Come."

Jeanne didn't resist and moved where she was directed. A numbness descended on her as she was led through corridors, and her headache receded somewhat. It still hurt, but now it was more like bad-hangover than Grimm-about-to-burst-from-her-forehead. Even her nausea retreated. Now she was mostly starving.

"There should be an aspirin in the sickbay, or better yet, a nurse." Amber told her as she was maneuvered through the hallway.

Jeanne nodded. A short walk later, she entered a room marked by a sign, _Sickbay_. A big window draped in dust-free emerald silk dominated the far wall of a room about the size of her parents' bedroom at home. In other words, very big. A comfy looking chair of golden velvety stuff sat in front of a large desk and marching chair of heavy oak, or similar wood. A woman sat on it, her languid smile melting into a frown at their entrance.

Jeanne was guided into the chair at the table and then released. She sat gratefully, rested her elbows on the table and rubbed at her head, grimacing.

Amber conversed with the nurse for a few minutes before they stepped out. They returned after a while, the nurse with a mug that she placed before Jeanne. "Drink up," she said.

Jeanne took the mug and peered briefly at the contents. She couldn't tell a thing about it except that it was liquid and it had a weird and tangy scent. What happened to the usual aspirin? Fuck it, it wasn't as if the day could get any worse if the stuff turned out to be foul. She slugged it down with only a slight grimace. It wasn't vile, though she doubted she would be asking for seconds.

"The bathroom is over there," the nurse gestured toward a door with a finger as she placed the empty mug on the table. "While I would have preferred if you rest, I know you would rather be present for the initiation. You can use it to freshen up."

"Food?" Jeanne asked, even as her stomach gave an accompanying growl. "Didn't get the chance to eat."

"It will be here soon." She paused, as if considering how to phrase her statement. "You will find the basics in the bathroom for use. Please dispose of the toiletries after use. And it will be in your best interest to be quick in there."

Jeanne exhaled a sigh of relief. She pushed up from the table and headed for the washroom, along the way realizing that her headache had receded to a manageable level. She passed by Amber and Jaune, who still sat on her head, and thought to herself that after the initiation, they would talk. She did owe them that much at least.

. . .

After about 10 minutes she felt more human and more certain that she was clean from any lingering sweat and her own puke-spatter. Unfortunately, she couldn't get rid of the stains on her hoodie in the small time frame, and so, decided to wear her light armor over her combat-dress instead. She would have to remember to be back for her hoodie.

Jeanne returned to the main room just as the nurse burst in, balancing a mug and a plate of what she hoped was food, on a tray. The tray was placed on the table and the nurse moved back to her seat. She was about to ask for the whereabouts of Amber, but the savory scent demanded her attention, and she turned to the table, mouth watering.

Not forgetting that someone sat in front of her, Jeanne broke into the food with a controlled gusto, until finally, she wiped her face and hands then dropped the napkin on the table. She looked to the nurse. "Thanks," she bowed lightly.

The woman nodded once before she stood. "I have informed the Headmaster of your unavoidable lateness, but you shouldn't because of that waste more time. Follow me, I will take you to the cliffs."

They headed out to the hallway and, using the elevator, wandered to the lower levels of the academy. After some time, Jeanne found herself facing the main entry corridor. She stood near a set of double doors at the end of a broad arched passage that ran at least twenty-five yards to a matching set of double doors. Judging by the distance, she figured it led to the other side of the academy. One of the doors stood half open so she headed out, the nurse having told her to continue in the same direction before going back to her office/work station.

The first thing that hit her when she reached the open air was the sense of spaciousness. She could look up and see the sky like this at home, but here, it just felt _bigger_ somehow, as if what she had been seeing was only a small part of what was there.

Jeanne stood atop a walkway, one of the many that was paved in stone and curved through neatly-trimmed grass. In the distance toward her left was a courtyard, flourishing with manicured bushes. She shook her head free of the tempting thoughts that arose. She could sight-see later.

Before long she had reached the cliffs, a dark stony mountain peppered with lush green foliage, overlooking a large forest. Her face grew hot from the stares as she took her place on a platform. Today certainly could have gone better, but as a warm breeze teased her hair, she knew the sights she was privileged to made it worth it.

A pity it wouldn't last.

* * *

The tangle of wood and moss and stone loomed, full of the rustling of heavy leaves, the screams of weapons, the flapping of feathered wings. And there, lurking over the rim of a nearby boulder, were two sets of small, glowing eyes.

A Beowolf advanced, opening its mouth in a deep, throbbing growl, giving Jeanne an unwelcome view of rolls of sharp teeth.

"Shit," she muttered as she backed away, her sword — _Crocea Mors _— coming out of its sheath with a metallic _clink_. The Grimm made a leaping lunge at her, jaws wide. She let out a shocked yelp as she backpedaled, picturing those many pointy teeth sinking into the her flesh. At the moment of impact, the Grimm's jaws snapped shut, and it simply barreled into her quickly unfurled shield. She scrambled to remember everything she had learnt under her parents, and got her feet up and between them so that she could shove the Beowolf off. She capitalized on the chance and swung her blade through its neck.

Another Beowolf struck her side, sending her careening across the forest floor. She sprawled on the natural walkway, skinning palms and banging her knees harshly. Blood pounded in her ears. The Grimm roared. Her breath came in short gasps, but she managed to get back to her feet, her knees and palms throbbing and stinging. A tingle of warmth spread across her skin, and the dull ache from the scrapes and bruises faded.

Jeanne rolled to her fallen sword just as the Beowolf rushed her, but it was all for naught. Before it could reach her a spear tore into its head, embedding it in the nearest tree.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sounds of rustling behind her. She whirled to see a fellow enlister regarding her with slightly narrowed eyes, though her palms were out in a friendly gesture of peace. There was no need of a commentator to introduce _the _Pyrrha Nikos this time. Her face were as known as the weapon she wielded.

"I guess we are partners,"

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed a fraction more as she reached out for a handshake. "I guess we are."

"I am Jeanne Arc. And thanks for the um… save?"

Pyrrha laughed as she walked to the tree and pulled her weapon free. "Are you asking me a question?"

Jeanne grinned at that. "I guess I am."

. . .

They ventured deeper in the dwindling afternoon hours, cutting across mossy earth that cushioned each step. They haven't seen any of their fellow enlisters, something that brought a great deal of anxiety to the pair. Still, they kept trudging northwards, not having any other option.

Jeanne barely paused to take in the views of the foothills below, the plains before them, all green and fresh. Neither uttered a word until they reached what looked like an age-stained ruins of a temple. It was no more than a flat bed of stone blocks and columns whose carvings had been dulled by wind, rain and time. Raised pedestals dotted around it holding what seemed to be… chess pieces?

Jeanne crossed the cracked stones, her blonde hair battered by the light wind. She ignored the other enlisters and Pyrrha who had begun attacking a rather large Death Stalker, and grabbed a chess piece — a rook to be exact. Clutching it in one palm since she had no pocket, she ran along with the others, away from the chasing Grimm. Oh, and the Nevermore too. Glad to know it wasn't just one oddly large specie of Grimm that wanted to kill them.

They, while dodging the pincers and aerial attacks, decided to divide and conquer. The all girls team changed direction, gaining the attention of the Nevermore with strategically-shot bullets. The remainder didn't have time to plan as the explosion of the bridge halted all thought process.

Jeanne slowly turned her gaze away from the destroyed bridge, feeling like she was in a dream. The Death stalker thundered toward them, its legs seeming louder than they really were. She stood with her fingers wrapped securely around the pommel of her sword, ready to protect herself, when dizziness hit her. Her breath slowed. She blinked as the Grimm came in and out of focus, moving impossibly slow. Suddenly she found herself in a different place. No, she wasn't in a new place. Her body had not left the ruins. She was only in a vision, at the worst possible time.

_Before us was an opening in the wall of vines. And standing in the middle of the opening was a hulking, terrifying figure._

_It was a Knight. A knight in golden battle armor. His breastplate glimmered in the dimness. His helmet was crowned with golden horns. He stood, motionless, on guard, a great sword in his hand. I drew a sharp breath when I saw what was set into the sword's hilt._

_A huge, white stone. The clear quartz._

"_WHO GOES THERE?!"_

_I and Amber froze as the hollow, echoing voice rang out. The knight had not turned his head, had not moved at all. Yet, we knew that it was he who had challenged us. We knew, too, that it was useless to refuse to answer, or to try to hide now._

"_We are travelers, from the city of Vale," called Amber. "Who is it who wanted to know?"_

"_I am Gorl, guardian of this place and owner of its treasure," said the hollow voice. "You are the trespassers. Go, now, and you may live. Stay, and you will die."_

"_It's two against one," I whispered in Amber's ear. "We can overpower him if we take him by surprise. We can pretend to leave, and then—"_

_Gorl's head slowly turned towards them. Through the eye-slit of his helmet we could see only blackness. My spine prickled._

"_So, you plot against me," the voice boomed. "Very well. The choice is made."_

_The armor-clad arm lifted and beckoned, and to my horror, I found myself stumbling forward, as though dragged by an invisible string. Desperately I struggled to hold back, but the force that was pulling me was too strong. I heard Amber cursing as she too lurched towards the beckoning arm._

_Finally we stood before the knight. He towered above us despite our rather tall heights. I, especially. "Thieves! Fools!" He growled. "You dare to try to steal my treasure. Now you will join the others who have tried, and your bodies will feed my vines, as theirs have done."_

_He stepped aside, and I stared with fascinated horror through the gap in the vines. _

_The walls of twisted stems was far thicker than I had realized, made up of hundreds of separate vines locked together. Many great tress were held within the vines' net. The wall must have been gradually thickening for centuries, spreading outward from the center as more and more vines grew, and more and more trees were taken._

_High above the ground, the vines reached from treetop to treetop, joining together to form a roof over a small, round space they protected. Only a tiny patch of blue sky could still be seen between the thickening leaves. Only a few beams of sunlight reached down to show dimly what lay inside the circle. _

_Ringing the walls, overgrown by gnarled roots, were the ancient, crumbling bodies and bones of countless dead — the knight's victims, whose bodies had fed the vines. In the center of the circle there was a round patch of thick black mud from which rose three glimmering objects that looked like golden arrows._

"_What are they?" I asked._

"_You know very well what they are, thief," thundered the knight. "They are the golden arrows of Cupid, the treasures you have come to steal."_

"_We have not come to steal them." Amber exclaimed._

_The knight turned his terrible head to look at her. "You lie!" He said. "You want them for yourselves, as I did, long ago. You wish to have the arrows so you can influence the emotions of those it pierce. But you shall not! I have protected my prize too well."_

_He raised his armored fist. "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste; wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. And therefore is love said to be a child, because in choice he is so oft beguiled."_

"_He is mad," breathes Amber. "He's saying utter rubbish."_

"_I don't think so. It sounds oddly familiar…"_

_**Analyzing structure and composition of words… match successfully acquired… Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare… Summary… A depiction of Cupid as blind, not so much in the sense of sightless — since the sight of the beloved can be a spur to love — as blinkered and arbitrary.**_

_I whispered, shocked at my realization. "This came from my world," I paused, feeling sick. "I think — I think my world and Remnant is merging. I don't know how, but somehow, it is!"_

_Gorl lifted his sword. "Move onto the circle," he ordered. "I must kill you there, so that your blood will feed the vines."_

_Again we found that our legs won't do our will, but only his. We staggered through the gap in the vines. Gorl followed us, raising his sword…_

"Jeanne!" Pyrrha shouted, her sword unfolding into a dangerous looking spear to ward off the approaching Grimm. Thankfully she didn't have to leave her partner's side, the other two members of their impromptu team had gone on ahead to distract the Death Stalker. With her other hand, she frantically shook the utterly still Jeanne. To no avail, she wasn't responding. Her gaze was distant, as if she wasn't really there.

It took a hard slap, an action that hurt Pyrrha more than the recipient, to elicit a response.

Jeanne, returning to the present, took a gasping breath then stumbled to her feet. She nearly fell to her knees, but a hand held on to her, helping her to regain her balance as her vision slowly returned. She made to pick her fallen sword and chess piece, only to stop as the movement brought on a wave of pain, and darkness ate at her vision.

Her semblance had exhausted her aura.

Oh shit.

A second pair of hands took hold of her other arm, keeping her upright, then the world went black.

* * *

**Omake (the meeting from Jaune's perspective)**

* * *

_Jaune, stop! You can't escape the conversation this time. Yesterday I allowed you because we were both tired from all the drama. You don't have that grace today._

The slime ignored the Maiden's words and ambled faster, or tried to at least. Moving in the body of a slime was a tough endeavor.

_Why did you say no when you already promised to kill the bad guy?_

Jaune stopped. Through the mental link they shared, he conveyed as much disbelief as he could at her sheer _stupidity. Amber, I heard the words, 'Immortal', 'Witch', and 'Salem' and knew I stood no chance whatsoever. The rest of my miserable existence is better spent bemoaning the loss of my dick._

With that said, he began once more his ridiculously slow-paced amble. He couldn't help cursing his body and its drawbacks.

_You are not being serious, _She shot back.

_I am dead serious._

The displacement of air was the only warning he got before he was sent flying. It was too soon, he supposed. Next time he would wait until days had passed after a brush with death to make comments like that. Though, he realized the minute he saw someone up ahead, he really should be paying attention to his surrounding.

With a quick application of his **Compressed-air Propulsion **skill, he was able to stop the impact by shooting out a small amount of air. it did have an unfortunate side-effect of sending him flying back.

A hand grabbed his body from the air, and he was placed on the head of the Fall Maiden, like a really large headpiece.

Oh how the mighty has fallen.

The girl with the blonde hair before him — who looked like one of his sisters — tripped over her shoes. In a fine display of speed, Amber's arm wound under the girl's armpits, effectively stopping her fall, though she leaned heavily on her. The girl's eyes were wide. With what, Jaune didn't know.

This close to the girl, he was shocked to discover the uncanny resemblance between both of them. The only physical difference being her gender.

She was a parallel-Jaune, he realized.

_Mendōkusei _

Amber gently pushed the girl until she stood on her own two feet, only to regret it moments later when parallel-Jaune began hyperventilating. Amber reached for her and just as she was about to wrap her fingers around her arm, the girl's knees buckled and her mouth opened, spewing vomit onto the floor between them.

Amber took a smooth half-step back to avoid the splatter, more of which ended up on the girl than her.

Jaune watched as parallel-Jaune wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She swayed and rubbed at her temples, her mouths squeezed tight shut.

_Do you think she's okay, Jaune?_

_How does that look like okay? _If he had arms, he would have waved it frantically at their object of concern. _Maybe you should steady her, she looks ready to fall again._

Amber took a hold of the girl's arm. _I will introduce myself._

Without waiting for a reply, she said. "I am Amber,"

"I'm Jeanne Arc," the girl managed.

"Oh…" Amber paused to swallow her comment.

_Jeanne… like the feminine form of your name. That Jeanne?_

_Yeah… Amber, I think this girl is the parallel version of me. Of my human self rather, before I was reborn in Remnant._

_How is that possible?_

_I… don't know. _His disbelief was evident. _But we can discuss this later. And we can't ask her questions; I doubt she's in the right condition to answer any of it._

"Fair greetings, Jeanne," she continued, gently moving the girl. "Come."

_This makes me wonder the deeper meaning behind your arrival on Remnant, Jaune. I doubt it's any good._

* * *

**Well, the plot thickens and it isn't even the 10****th**** chapter — that would be the end of the first arc. The first arc is just a means for me to introduce characters, build the lore surrounding my story, and set up the stage for future plots. Pay attention to Jeanne and her visions, it is a glimpse of future events to come.**

**How was it? Great? Okay? Bad? Tell me in the review section. Don't also forget to favorite and follow the story. It motivates me to write more, and I do want to write more. Like implied earlier, I have some crazy plans for this story that just might work.**

**Until later. Stay safe.**


	8. - Won't Let Go

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

**My take of their initiation. Pretty sure no one has done it this way.**

* * *

Pyrrha Nikos was in a bit of a dilemma. You would think a four-time champion like her would have seen everything by now, but her new partner, one Jeanne Arc, managed to surprise her three times. The first was her not recognizing Pyrrha's accomplishment, and fawning over the champion. The second was coming late to the cliffs, most prospective students having already been sent hurling into the forest by the time she stumbled there. And the last was the girl fainting in the middle of an altercation with an elder Grimm.

She knew there was a hidden joke there, but for the life of her, she was too concerned for her partner to bother pondering deeply on the intricacies of her situation.

Holding on to Jeanne, the girl leaning heavily on her chest, Pyrrha carefully bent and retrieved the fallen chess pierce and sword. Hooking the sword to the clip on her belt, she placed the rook inside her partner's pocket, apologizing silently for the personal intrusion as she did so. Maneuvering the girl to her back took more finesse, but she was able to do it, using her semblance to more or less glue their armors together.

Although it took some time to get used to the extra weight, and the subconscious concentration it took to keep hold of her polarity, not to mention the slow dwindle of her aura, Pyrrha was still sure she could manage and fight. Her grip on _Miló_ tightened as her aura flooded her system, empowering her. With a barely noticeable grunt of exertion, she kicked off from the ground, weapon twirling deadly arcs through the air as she jumped straight towards the screeching Deathstalker.

She won't let go of her partner. Not now, not ever.

* * *

**Chapter Eight - Won't Let** **Go**

* * *

Seconds into the altercation with the elder Grimm, Pyrrha realized the full weight of the arduous task she was undertaking.

In layman terms, Jeanne Arc was one heavy girl. Though she would be a fool to say that to the blonde's face.

It wasn't carrying her that was a problem. No, that title went to her fighting style.

Having been more or less bred as a tournament fighter, her style was more showy than her peers's. Simply put, it revolved around acrobatic stunts and great shows of dexterity and flexibility. So, with the girl at her back, Pyrrha was clearly at a disadvantage.

And the Deathstalker unknowingly capitalized on that, focusing more on her than the other two partners she had teamed up with to combat it.

She ducked under a pincer swipe, flipped over another strike and lashed out with an overhead swing that succeeded in doing absolutely nothing to its carapace, all while maintaining a hold on her partner with her semblance.

She groaned as she jumped back, avoiding another pincer swipe and regrouping with Ren and Nora.

If she was any other trainee, it would have been nigh impossible to fight in this position, so to speak. It wasn't a boast. Rather it was a fact. A well established one at that.

It was not a lie to say that Pyrrha Nikos was leagues ahead of every first year, and most second year. She was capable and it was apparent in the achievements she had under her belt. Being a four-time champion was no walk in the park.

Sadly though, it didn't make her task any easier.

"What're we gonna do, Ren?" Nora whispered loudly, her hammer held in both hands as she leaned into her partner.

Ren, for his part, just shrugged.

They were all incredible combatants, but it seemed strategy weren't their strong point. They were like weapons without a user to wield them, a direction to be used in, and something to focus on.

Some might argue that attacking the Grimm intermittently would eventually lead to its demise. And while that was an option each of them had considered, it was one they opted out from taking. The guerrilla approach would be a ridiculously slow one, and they all knew they didn't have all day to waste.

It was already late afternoon, and they still had to walk back to the academy.

The stakes weren't looking too good in their favor.

"I believe it's in our best interest to double back to the rest, and form a plan to take care of the Grimm. Or at the least, relieve ourselves of the burden."

Ren's words weren't spoken with malice; they were the truth. She knew that carrying Jeanne had cut down almost all of her combat effectiveness, and this would hinder the others. Their long range weapons had been withheld in fear of scoring a hit on the girl on her back in the crossfire.

Yet, annoyance still reared within her.

It was not Jeanne's fault that she fainted. It was possible that the blonde had a medical condition none of them were aware of because Pyrrha doubted she did so from fear. Jeanne didn't look like the type to give up, and she had stayed behind the underbrush to watch Jeanne fight those Beowolves after all, before making her entrance.

She had seen her fight against the Beowolves.

While she couldn't care less about who she got partnered up with — her ability would make up for the difference in strength and skill — it would still not do to have a veritable civilian as a partner. Or worse, a civilian that was a diehard fan. The former could be trained, the later would lead to an unhappy team.

Having a partner who was trained and didn't care for her accolades was, before today, a pipe dream. She had thought it impossible to find one like Jeanne Arc, and was glad she had chosen Beacon Academy. Meeting her was arguably the best thing that had happened recently.

So, though the comment was in fact true and spoken without a shred of hatred or annoyance, it didn't make it any less hurtful. Ren should be thankful Jeanne was unconscious. Who knew what it would have done to her morale?

Pyrrha made to speak, only for a hand to clamp down on her shoulders. She drew back in surprise and turned to look at the hyperactive teen, sending her an inquisitive glance.

Nora shook her head. "Don't mind Renny, he means well. It's just that he doesn't…" the girl trailed off on seeing the smile Pyrrha sent her way.

The annoyance faded as the smile blossomed. "It's okay, I…" understand? The obvious choice sometimes wouldn't be the best thing to say. And to be honest, did she really understand? "…know he meant well," she settled on that, then added, "I just didn't like the insinuation that my partner is a burden. We don't know yet the reason for her fainting, so it won't be right to judge her based on that."

Ren spun fluidly in the air, his hands steady as his weapons rapidly spat out bullets into the face(?) of the Deathstalker, eliciting a high pitch squeal as it swung wildly and ambled back. It gave them some precious time they could use to gather their wits.

"I'm sorry if my comment was taken to be an insult. That wasn't my plan." Ren was tired, and it showed in his manner of speech. They were punctuated by great gasps as he exhaled sharply.

"It was the only way I could think of for us to defeat the Deathstalker," he continued. "We need to focus entirely on it."

Pyrrha nodded, acquiescing his point with a small frown. She still didn't like the thought of likening her partner to a burden, insult or not.

"Nora, distract it," Ren intoned softly, even as he bent parallel to the ground and raced towards the 'it' in question. He maneuvered round each of its leg, making precise cuts at gaps between the armors. He rolled out of the way as the hyperactive teen, with a slightly insane smile on her face, slammed her hammer from underneath the Grimm.

Her hammer shifted mid-hit into a grenade launcher, dispelling a pink shell, and sending the Grimm upwards with the accompanied explosion.

Pyrrha was already halfway to where the other impromptu team was last sighted, trusting in Ren and Nora to follow her. They fell in sync moments later, legs pounding the ground and breaths labored, more, in Ren's case.

It seemed their endeavor would bear fruition. At this rate they would quickly make their way to the other group and—

Growls dissuaded them of their notion. They were surrounded at all sides by Beowolves, the Deathstalker contented to lay in wait.

It was not a surprising thing really. Elder Grimm were known to be smarter than the usual Grimm. Possibly because of their age, which could range from mere decades to centuries, that allowed them the time needed to form a basic conscious intellectual capacity.

They weren't as smart as a human adult. However, the highest estimated cognitive capacity of an elder Grimm was said to be about the level of a high schooler. The claims had been, since its appearance, refuted. But that didn't mean it wasn't plausible.

Grimm were as much a mystery this days as they were in the past. Literally almost nothing, apart from the essentials derived from watching them and their natural counterparts, were known about the unnatural creatures.

She was digressing.

The Beowolves lumbered towards them, and instinctively they huddled together in the middle, weapons at the ready.

With a growl, echoed by the creatures of Grimm that encircled them, they attacked.

Mindful of the person she carried, Pyrrha fell back, her left hand raising her shield as a Beowolf snarled and lunged at her. A second lunge crashed futilely against her shield. Before it could attempt a third, she dug her heels into the ground, grunted, and shoved it back. The javelin in her right hand's grip darted out, faster than the eyes could follow, exploding out of the Grimm's neck.

Her stance was defensive. She couldn't afford to keep moving for fear of losing focus and letting go of her partner, or leaving her back open to an attack.

Another beowolf pounced from the side so she spun, legs snapping out sharply at its throat. The Grimm choked even as momentum carried it to crash backwards a few yards away. Her javelin twirled elegantly in the palm of her hand before plunging deep into the Grimm's breast.

In her peripheral, she could see Ren and Nora managing just fine on their own. Twisting and turning, they moved in tandem with each other, like two peas in a pod, striking after each one dealt a blow to the horde or acted as a distraction.

It was a deadly dance between two partners who already knew each other.

Pyrrha glanced at her own partner, resting comfortably at her back, the tell-tale sign of her semblance enveloping their armors. Jealousy bubbled like gas in her favorite soda brand, _Everybody Loves Grapes, _only to be ruthlessly squashed down as she focused on the encroaching Beowolves.

_Miló_ whirled in her hands, altering itself until she held a sword in a strong grip. She then proceeded to throw herself at the nearest creature. A Beowolf's claw swept over her face, missing it by a couple of centimeters. She bobbed and weaved under a flurry of strikes, making sure Jeanne wasn't in the line of any of them. She doubted the blonde's aura would be able to protect her in her sleep.

Finally one smashed against her shield, and she braced herself, sliding back from the force exerted on _Akoúo_. Her xiphos stabbed upwards, its blade tearing at the side of its neck in a brutal fashion.

The atmosphere was drowning in the sounds of the death throes of Grimm, the labored breaths each combatant took, and the cracking as weapon met bone-plating.

Two Beowolves threw themselves at Pyrrha, and she met both at once, a whirlwind of flesh and metal. Black ichor burst free from open wounds strewn across ribcages by precise jabs and slashes. A corpse hit the ground, and she twisted beneath a strike at her face to lay open the second Grimm's chest cavity.

A third slinked low and swift towards her at that moment. It had burst up behind her, claws poised, as she slashed through the chest of the Beowolf. The wet sound of claws meeting flesh cut through the air, followed by the smacking of said flesh against the stoned ground.

Pyrrha gasped and twisted on her heels, now free of the body she bore, her blade sweeping out in a lethal arc. The Grimm's head went flying through the air, bone and flesh disconnected in one brutal fashion.

She didn't care for that. Her attention was wholly fixed on the blonde girl that slowly staggered up, clutching tightly at gash that ran along her forearm. She wasn't even aware of when Ren and Nora arrived at her side, peering carefully at her wounded partner.

However, she was more than aware of a screech and a stinger gleaming with venom, that was heading their way. Fast.

With a panicked, "Scatter!" they jumped out of the way, just as the barbed end of its tail impacted the ground with a speed and strength that cracked the stone and created a fissure.

* * *

**That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime**

* * *

Despite the throbbing pain from her head — her aura already starting to heal the cut on her arm, though the same couldn't be said for the massive headache she felt — Jeanne Arc was able to successfully escape the Grimm's venomous appendage and its effects on the surrounding.

Mandibles and pincer clacked with a menacing promise as the Deathstalker eyed them wearily. Suddenly, it arched its tail back and snapped it forward.

"Nora!" the pink-eyed teen — was it a medical condition? Or his normal eye color? — ordered to a orange-haired.

"Yes, Ren!" the orange-haired, Nora, gave a crisp salute as she spun her hammer in her hand, jumped, and struck the Grimm's stinger directly at its end.

Something shattered. It wasn't the hammer.

Fragments flew from the point of contact, and the creature stagger back, shrieking in pain and scampering back. Gunfire echoed through the ruins as they rained bullets at it, swallowing the pain-filled snarls and growls of the Deathstalker.

Jeanne's heart pounded in her chest, and not for the first time she wondered what the hell she was thinking, applying to Beacon Academy. Then she remembered, and softly cursed at her own misfortune.

"Look out!" a warning came from nowhere, and her body instinctively heeded it, throwing itself away, hands digging through earth to stop her flip.

Her hand went to her waist to grab her weapon, only to grab at nothing. Where was _Crocea Mors_?

Spotting it at her partner's waist, she ran over to her.

"Hey, Pyr!"

The teen turned towards her, a smile adorning her face once she was sighted. Jeanne stretched out her hand once she had reached the champion, her gaze at her weapon.

"Do you think you are up for fighting?"

The concern was palpable, and while appreciated, was entirely unnecessary. She was a big girl. Moreover, she was used to the unexpected bout of semblance-induced vision. She nodded and gave a thumbs up.

Pyrrha looked conflicted for a moment, her forest-green eyes becoming stormy as she thought to herself. Ultimately, she sighed and smiled.

"Alright, but don't stress yourself. Stop if you feel about to faint, or if need be, I will knock you out myself."

Jeanne couldn't help chuckling, a smile appearing on her face. She nodded again, took her weapon, and drew her blade, clipping the shield to her waist.

A sharp whistle garnered the attention of the other two, and she beckoned them closer as the Grimm reeled from a pink explosion to its face.

She had a plan crazy enough to work.

. . .

They each had a role to play in this plan of hers.

Nora was the distraction, attacking to ensure the Grimm's attention was on her alone…

"Nora, with me!" Jeanne shouted as she took off running down the bridge. The aforementioned teen followed suit with a manic giggle. Ren and Pyrrha took off in the opposite direction, opening fire with their guns. Bullets struck fruitlessly at the Grimm's side as it gave chase, clacking angrily as it as it made to escape, unintentionally cutting off her path

Its pincers stabbed downwards at her. Her shield came up just in time, and metal rang, echoing through the canyon as the blow was redirected into the bridge. Jeanne stepped aside, and Nora swept forward, _Magnhild_ shifting once more into its grenade launcher mode. There was a clack of pain as explosions peppered across the Deathstalker's side, disorienting it.

…Pyrrha and Ren were the support, attacking to weaken the Grimm to make room for her…

The xiphos flashed out, and another screech tore the air as it bit into the joint of its leg. Pyrrha twisted her weapon round, cutting through one of the many legs. The earlier cuts had weaken their durability. The Deathstalker clacked in rage, flailing its pincers about until finally it caught Pyrrha under her chin, and she was sent hurtling through the air, unfortunately devoid of her weapon.

It was stuck between a gap in the carapace of it's limbs.

The spartan girl twisted midair and shot her arm out, catching Ren's hand as he swung her momentum back onto a raised platform. They shared an unspoken agreement between them, and when Pyrrha touched down, she used her momentum to lift Ren off his own feet. She spun around with the centrifugal force, and Ren flew through the air once she let go.

The black-haired boy steeled himself as the Deathstalker's pincer came in for another pass. His hand snapped out, and he gracefully avoided that, closing around _Miló's_ haft. Ren vaulted around it and ripped it free. Blood spurted as he kicked off the Grimm's body, _StormFlower_ rattling in his hand and stitching bullets across its body. It shuddered and writhed under the onslaught, as Ren rolled a few ways away into a crouch, blade in hand.

…the trump card… her.

Jeanne took a deep breath as she started to run across the bridge towards the Grimm, letting out a huff as she reeled back a two-handed vertical sword strike. Her arms heaved and her throat felt raw as she jumped and brought the sword down, letting loose the charged attack with a shout.

Aura amplification worked in many ways. Boosting her physical attributes tenfold for some time was just one facet of the admittedly overpowered ability. Another would be her ability to _amplify _her sword strikes to such an absurd degree that they displaced the very air, becoming apparent as a blade shockwave of pure aura, shaped into being by the steel-cutting edge of _Crocea Mors_,

This, appeared no different like the others she had summoned in the course of her training.

The arc-shaped beam flashed across the grace, deracinating dirts, roots and stones, and cutting straight through the Deathstalker. It smashed through its skull, splitting flesh and carapace alike with an ease that spoke of the power behind the attack.

It was honestly quite frightening to see the result.

She landed in a roll and slid to a stop, aura flashing weakly to take the brunt of her rough landing, just as the two sides of the Grimm vanished in a whitish glow.

There was silence as she stood, the only sound that of her heavy breathing tempering off into the calming rhythm of inhalation and exhalation. Tired as she was, she mustered enough strength to walk towards her partner before collapsing on the champion's armor covered body with a smile.

She had made it into Beacon. It was over…

Seconds later, the smile faded into a frown.

…the easy part at least.

* * *

**Well, isn't that an ominous ending. Had fun writing this chapter (literally wrote it in a day, though I didn't like some part especially the interaction between Pyrrha and Jeanne. I'm pretty sure the writing dulled towards the end. Sorry for that) and don't worry (for all who are worried), Jaune would appear soon. I just need to set the stage right. **

**And well, I'm really busy so that's why the chapter came late. Doing courses and stuff. Wish me luck! And I know it's a bit rushed. Sorry for that too.**

**No omake for this update. No idea for it.**

**Until later. Hopefully the next chapter would be longer and better.**


End file.
